GONE BEFORE. 



Gone Before 

'I 



BEING A MANUAL OF 

CONSOLATION FOR THE BEREAVED 
AND A WELL OF SYMPATHY 
FOR THE SORROAVING 
FILLED FROM MANY 
SOURCES . 



HENRY SOUTHGATE 
If 

-L'THOR OF "many THOUGHTS OF MANY .AIIXDS," &C , &C., &C. 



' Coine 7nito Me, all ye t/iat labour and are Jieany lade; 
ajiei I :oill g-17'e yo?e 7'est."' — Matt. xi. 2S. 



LONDON 



LOCKWOOD ^ CC^,:^,^STAi^oIqNKRS'' HALL COURT 

3 , . LUDGATE HILL 



^7 



,S5S 



PREFACE. 

Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted."— Matt. v. 4." 

No man can write on a subject with which he is unac- 
quainted. But who is unacquainted with sorrow ? Who 
has not had to suffer the anguish of bereavement ? Who 
has not confronted, in thought and anticipation at least, 
the dread mystery of death ? The consolations of God 
more than counterbalance the afflictions which He sends ; 
but the mind, wholly occupied with the immediate cause of 
its grief, fails to see that there may be a compensating 
good. Yet this there must be in every dispensation, 
however painful, of Him whose way and work are per- 
fect. I have therefore thought that if a selection from 
the writings of the wise and good, of all churches and 
of all ages, could be put into the hands of the sorrowful 
in the day of their grief, they might be shown the 
brighter side of the cloud, and be assisted to see, that 
even in the darkest forms of earthly trouble, they were 
not less the objects of the divine interest and favour 
than in other times when the tide of affairs was smooth 
and flowing, or when affection could count all its nearest 
and dearest ones among the living circle around it. I'o 

2740 



vi 



PREFACE. 



this impression the present volume owes its existence, 
and I trust that it will not altogether fail in the object 
to which it is very earnestly devoted. The selections 
have been made from many Authors, and the subject 
might easily have been developed in more extended 
and numerous quotations, but a larger book was deemed 
less suitable for those for whom this work is especially 
designed. Should it be the means of raising the 
depressed eye to heaven — of alleviating in any degree 
the burden of the " heavy-laden" — of leading the heart 
that has been bereft of its dearest treasures to look 
onward to a world of reunion, where they will be re- 
covered beyond the possibility of loss, I shall have the 
satisfaction, if not of reducing the a77iou7it of sorrow in 
the world, at least of assuaging its bitterness. 

Henry Southgate. 

Elm Cottage, 

Forest Hill, S.E. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Affliction • . , . . , .144 

/ said, Trtdy this is a griefs and I vit^t bear it. O Lord, 
correct 7ne^ but with jiidg7?ient ; 7iot i7i Thine anger , lest TJwti 
bring 7ne to fwthiftg. — Jeremiah x. 19, 24. 

Bereavement . . . . , , . 45 to 180 

Now he is dead, wherefore should I fast ? can I brijtg him back 
again ? I shall go to hifu, but he shall Jtot returfi to me. — 
2 Samuel xii. 23. 

Death . . . . . . . . , 181 to 218 

Yea, tho2igh I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

1 will fear no evil : for Thou art with vie ; Thy rod and Thy 
staff they coinfort 7ne. —Psalm xxiii. 4. 

Sorrow . , . . . . . . 219 to 256 

Ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow sJiall be turned i7ito 
joy. — St. John xvi. 20. 

Sympathy ..... ... 257 to 2S6 

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, tJie 
Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort ; who co^nforteth 
us in all our tribulatio7i, that we 7nay be able to co77ifort the7Ji 
which are i7tany trouble, by the co77ifort wherewith we ou7-selves 
are co77tforted of God. — 2 Corinthians i. 3, 4. 

Consolation . . . , * o . 287 to 336 

Now our Lord Jesus Christ Hi77iself, and God, eve7i 07ir Father, 
which hath loved 7is, ajid hath given us everlasti7tg co7isolatio7i 
a7td good hope thro^igh grace, co77ifort your hearts,^ 

2 Thessalonians ii. 16, 17. 



viii. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Resignation. ....... 337 to 363 

FatJier, if Thou he ivilling, retiiove this cup fro7n Me : fteverl/ie- 
less iwt 77ty will, but Thijte, be done. — St. Luke xxii. 42. 

Heaven . . . . . . . 369 to 386 

Wlw are tJiese luhich are arrayed in white robes, and ivheiice 
catne they ? Aitd Jie said to 77ie, TJiese are tJiey 'which ca77ie out 
of great tribulatioft, and Jiave wa^/ied their robes, a7id 77iade 
the77i white i7i tJie blood of the La7?ib. Therefo7'e are tJiey 
before the thro7ie of God, a7id serine Hi7n day a7id 7iight i?i His 
ternple : a7id He tliat sitteth 07i tJie thro7ie shuill dwell a7no7ig 
tJie7fi. TJiey sJiall hunger 710 77tore, 7ieit1ier thirst any 77iore ; 
7ieitJier shall tJie su7i light on the77i, 7wr a7iy heat. For tJie 
La77ib which is in the 7Jiidst of tJie thro7ie sJiall feed tJie77i, a7id 
shall lead tJie7)i u7ito livi7ig fou7itai7is of waters : a7td God 
sJiall wipe away all tears f 7-0771 tlieir eyes. — Revelation 
vii. 13 — 17. 



AFFLICTION. 



^VE XEED THE CLOUD. 

It was out of the cloud that the deluge came, yet it is upon 
it that the bow is set. The cloud is a thing of darkness, yet 
God chooses it for the place where He bends the arch of light ! 
Such is the way of our God. He knows that we need the cloud, 
and that a bright sky \\'ithout a speck or shadow would not suit 
us in our passage to the kingdom. Therefore He draws the 
cloud above us not once in a lifetime, but many times. But 
lest the gloom should appal us He braids the cloud with sun- 
shine, nay, makes it the object which gleams to our eye with the 
very fairest hues of heaven. 

Yes, it is not merely light after the darkness has fled away. 
That we shall one day know — how fully ! 

But it is light in darkness ; light beaming out of a ray pro- 
duced by that darkness ! ^Yater from the rock ; wells from the 
sand ; light from the very cloud that darkens ; life in the very 
midst of death ! 

This is the marvel, this is the joy. Peace in trouble ; glad- 
ness in sorrow ; nay, peace and gladness* produced by the veiy 
tribulation itself ; peace and gladness which nothing but that 
tribulation could have produced ! Such is the deep love of God ; 
and such is the way in which He makes all things work together 
for good to us. 

REV. HORATIUS BONAR. 

B 



2 



GONE BEFORE. 



BOW THYSELF TO LEARN THE ALPHABET 
OF TEARS. 

God alone 

Instnicteth how to mourn. He doth not trust 
This higher lesson to a voice or hand 
Subordinate. Behold ! He cometh forth 1 
O sweet disciple — ^bow thyself to learn 
The alphabet of tears. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



*'THE MASTER IS COME AND CALLETH 
FOR THEE.'' 

And, oh ! silent mourner, as surely as that affliction has 
come which makes thine heart know its own bitterness, so surely 
"The Master is come and calleth for thee." This affliction of 
thine was not unknown to Him ; it has brought Him nearer to 
thee than He was before, if one may so speak in accommodation 
to human infirmity and understanding ; the affliction makes it 
more possible for thee to realize the supporting presence of Jesus 
than it would have been if the affliction had not come. Thou 
mayest have been forgetting the Saviour, as thou hast been 
troubled, but the Saviour has not been forgetting thee ; thou 
mayest have neglected to come to Him, but He sends for thee. 
And this very affliction has a message which says, * ' Come unto 
Me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest." 

" Be careful [that is, over-anxious] for nothing, but in 
every thing [even in this bitter affliction, ] by prayer and supplica- 
tion, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made kno^m to 
God, and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, 
shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. " Go to 
that Saviour who calleth thee, and He will tell thee of strength 
in the midst of human weakness, and of resurrection life 
amidst all the circumstances of sorrow connected with mortality ; 
and He will assure thee that wisdom and love have arranged 
the circumstances of every trial, as well as the circumstances of 
every mercy ; and He wall enable thee to acquiesce in all that 
has been done for the gloiy of God. 



AFFLICTION. 



3 



This may be said of the trials of all God's servants in all ages 
of the world, that love appoints them, wisdom chooses them, 
providence arranges them, promises are provided for them, grace 
can support and strengthen those who are suffering because 
of them, and glory shall be the issue of them when every 
mystery shall be cleared away, and when He who is the 
resurrection and the life shall put the finishing stroke to His 
great work of redemption, and cause death to be swallowed up 
in victory. 

REV. WM. CADMAN, M.A, 



LOVE'S STERNER TONE. 

God's dealings still are love ; his chastenings are alone 
Love now compelled to take an altered sterner tone. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



THE SCHOOL OF SORROW FOR THE WORK OF 
GREATER USEFULNESS. 

Affliction is sent for the spiritual and eternal good of the 
righteous. Affliction makes Christians holier in heart, and 
enables them to climb higher towards heaven; it shows them 
all life's vanities ; it makes them sit loose to the world and its 
delights, and it disciplines them in the school of sorrow for the 
work of greater usefulness in the Church of God ; and by it the 
Spirit prepares them on earth for the joys of heaven. Affliction 
makes eternal truth and beauty shine forth visibly ; it revives the 
drooping Christian's life, and rg.ises the soul to sweeter com- 
munion and joys with God. Affliction is the strong wind that severs 
the chaff of earthliness from the precious wheat of divine life 
in the Christian ; it is the raging fire that purges away all the 
dross and defilements of sin from the sterling gold of Christian 
faith and love, by the power of the Holy Spirit, sealing it 
for heaven j it is the battlmg tempest which shakes the 



4 



GONE BEFORE. 



Christian tree to its roots, and yet only to make it strike 
deeper in di\'ine power, and rise higher in divine life, and be 
more lovely and fruitful in God's garden. In fine, affliction is 
as the plank from the broken ship — the body shattered in death, 
and the flooding wave which bears the "departing soul looking 
to Jesus " in full confidence and love to be for ever with. Him 
in the haven of eternal rest. 

REV. J. G. ANGLEY, M.A. 



GOD'S MESSENGER SENT DOWN TO THEE. 

Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 

God's messenger sent do^^m to thee. Do thou 

With courtesy receive him ; — grief should be 

Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate — 

Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ; 

Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend 

Great thoughts — gi-avc thoughts — thoughts lasting to the end. 

AUBREY DE VERE. 



TRIBULATION IS THE HAND THAT LEADETH 
TO GOD. 

God's love, as the active principle in the heart, is the angel- 
presence that banishes all impatience, all petulance, all re- 
belliousness, all fear. What the God I love does, must be right, t 
The God I love sends my tribulations, therefore will I glorj^ 
even in tribulations. Only love can interpret the mysteries of 
God. I will close with a picture. ' ' After this I beheld, and, 
lo, a great multitude, which no man could number stood before 
the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and 
palms in their hands ; and cried ^^dth a loud voice, saying, 
Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto 
the Lamb. And all the angels stood round about the throne, 
and about the elders and the four living creature j|, and fell before 



AFFLICTION. 



6 



the throne on their faces, and worshipped God, saying, Amen : 
Blessing, and glory, and msdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, 
and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. 
Amen. And one of the elders answered, sapng unto me, What 
are these which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence came 
they? And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to 
me. These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have 
washed ihdr robes, and made the?7i white in the blood cf the Lamb. 
Therefore are they before the throne of God" (Rev. vii. 
9—14). Thus tribulation is the hand that leadeth to God. It 
is the pathway to the angels. It is the gateway of heaven. 

REV. JOSEPH HALSEY. 

Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh 
for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glor}\" — 
2 Cor. iv. 17. 

*'FoR I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not 
worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed 
in us.'' — Rom. viii. 18. 

Even the darkest things God has explanations for ; and it is 
only necessary to be let into His views and designs, as when we 
are made capable of being, we certainly shall, to see a trans- 
cendent v/isdom and beauty in them all. 

REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D. 



THE MORN OF JOY, BUT FIRST THE TEARFUL 
SOWING. 

A LITTLE while of mingled joy and sorrow, 
A few more years to wander here below. 

To wait the daA\Tiing of that golden morrow 

Where mom shall break above our night of woe. 

A few more thorns around our pathway gro\-sing. 
Ere yet our hands may cull the heavenly flowers ; 

The mom of joy, but first the tearful so^'^'ing 
Ere we may rest these weary souls of om-s. 



6 



GONE BEFORE. 



A few more hours of weariness and sighing, 
Of mourning o'er the power of inner sin, 

A little while of daily crucifying 

Unto this world and evil heart within. 

A little longer in this vale of weeping, 
Of yearning for the sinless home above ; 

A little while of watching and of keeping 
Our garments by the power of Him we love. 

A little while, and we shall dwell for ever 
Within our bright, our everlasting home. 

Where time, or space, or death, no more can sever 
Our grief-\^Tung hearts — and pain can never come. 

'Tis but a little while — the way is dreary. 
The night is dark, but we are nearing land ! 

O for the rest of heaven ! for we are weary. 
And long to mingle with the deathless band. 

From Hym7is selected by Rev. J. C, Ryle. 



The tissue of every Christian's destiny is wrought with threads 
of mercy, and mercy impresses her o^^Tl lovely characters on eveiy 
trial he is called to bear. 

DR. RAFFLES. 



*'IF NEED BE.'' 

What a blessed motto and superscription over the dark lintels 
of sorrow 1 "If need be ! " Every arrow from the quiver of 
God is feathered with it. Write it, child of affliction, over ever}^ 
trial thy God sees fit to send ! If He calls thee down from the 
sunny mountain heights to the darksome glades, hear Him saying, 
* ' There is a need-be. " If He have dashed the cup of earthly pros- 
perity from thy lips, curtailed thy creature comforts, diminished 

thy basket and thy store," hear Him saying, " There is a need- 
be." If he has ploughed and furrowed thy soul with severe bereave- 
ment, extinguished light after light in thy dwelling, hear Him 
thus stilling the tumult of thy grief, — There is a need-be." Yes, 



AFFLICTION. 



7 



believe it, there is some profound reason for thy trial, which at 
present may be undiscemible. No furnace will be hotter than 
He sees to be needed. Sometimes, indeed, His teachings are 
mysterious. We can with difficulty spell out the letters, "God 
is love." We can see no " bright light, " no luminous bow in 
our cloud. It is all mystery ; not one break is there in the sky. 
Nay, hear what God the Lord doth speak, — " If need be." He 
does not long leave His people alone if He sees the chariot 
wheels dragging heavily : He will take His o\yn means to sever 
them from an absorbing love of the world, to pursue them out 
of self, and dislodge usurping clay idols that may have vaulted 
on the throne which He alone may occupy. Before thy present 
trial He may have seen thy love waxing cold, thy influence for 
good lessening. As the sun puts out the fire, the sun of earthly 
prosperity may have been extinguishing the fires of thy soul ; 
thou mayest have been shining less brightly for Christ, effecting 
some guilty compromise with an insinuating and seductive world. 
He has appointed the very discipline and dealing needful ; no- 
thing else, nothing less, could have done. Be still, and know that 
He is God! That "need-be," remember, is in the hands of 
infinite Love, infinite Wisdom, infinite Power. 

Trust Him in Httle things as well as in great things, in trifles 
as w^ell as in emergencies; seek to have an unquestioning faith. 
We may not be able to understand it now, but one day we shall 
come to find that affliction is one of God's most blessed angels ; a 
ministering spirit sent forth to minister to them who are heirs of 
salvation. There would be no bow in the material heaven but for 
the cloud. Loveher indeed to the eye is the azure blue, the 
fleecy summer vapours, or the gold and vermilion of western 
sunsets ; but what would become of the earth if no dark clouds 
from time to time hung over it, distilling their treasures, reviving 
and refreshing its drooping vegetable tribes ? Is it otherwise 
vnth the soul ? Nay, the cloud of sorrow is needed, its every 
raindrop has an inner meaning of love. If even now. afilicted 
one, these clouds are gathering, and the tempest sighing, lift up 
thine eye to the divine scroll gleaming in the darkened heavens, 
and remember that He who has put the bow of promise there, 
saw also a need-be " for the cloud on which it rests. 



REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D, 



8 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE DISCIPLINE OF PROVIDENTIAL TRIAL. 

Ye to whom the time of visitation has come through the 
discipline of providential trial, oh ! take it not hardly that God 
has thus dealt with you. Be grateful, rather, that as a -wise 
Father He will not spare you pain, when pain is needful and 
salutary. Be anxious only to obtain the full blessing that your 
trial is commissioned to impart ; and so your sorrow shall be the 
prelude of eternal joy ; your cross shall gain you a crov^n, and 
your thorny path on earth shall open out into the glories of the 
unending paradise above. 

REV. C. M. MERRY. 



A BRIGHT LIGHT ALWAYS ON THE OTHER SIDE. 

Remember if the cloud is over you, that there is a bright light 
always on the other side ; also that the time is coming, either 
in this world or the next, when that cloud will be swept away, 
and the fulness of God's light and v^dsdom poured around you. 
Everything which has befallen you, whatever sorrow your heart 
bleeds with, whatever pain you suffer, even though it be the 
pains of a passion like that which Jesus endured at the hands 
of His enemies — nothing is wanting but to see the light that 
actually exists, waiting to be revealed, and you vnR be satisfied. 
If your life is dark, then walk by faith, and God is pledged to 
keep you as safe as if you could understand everything. " He 
that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide 
under the shadow of the Almighty." 

REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D. 



THE TOUCHSTONE TO THE SOUL. 

The more the cross, the nearer heaven ! 

Where is no cross, there God is not ! 
The world's turmoil doth hide His face ; 

Hell, sense, and self, make Him forgot. 

Oh ! where God draws a blessed lot, 
His mercy some dark lines doth trace. 



AFFLICTIOX. 



9 



The more the cross, the better Christian ! 

God lays the touchstone to each soul ! 
How many a garden must lie waste, 

Did not a tear-stonn o'er it roll ! 

Refining grief, a li\ing coal. 
Upon the Christian's heart is placed. 

The more the cross, the more believing ! 

In desert lands the palm trees grow ; 
Aud when the grape is strongly pressed, 

Then doth its sweetness overflow ; 

And strength lies hid in every woe, 
As pearls do in the salt wave rest. 

The more the cross, the more the praying ! 

The bruised plant yields sweetest balm ; 
]\Ian doth not seek to find the pole 

In quiet seas and steady calm ; 

And how should we have David's Psalms 
Had he not had a troubled soul ? 

The more the cross, the more the longing I 
Out of the vale, man upward goes ; 

WTiose pathivay through the desert lies, 
He craves the land where Jordan flows. 
When here the dove finds no repose, 

Straight to the ark with joy she flies. 

The more the cross, the sweeter death. 

For man rejoices then to die ; 
"When as his body is laid do^^^l 

Much pain and sorrow are laid by ; 

His cross there on his grave doth lie. 
See ! man doih wear the victors crown ! 

O Jesus, Lord, the Crucified ! 

Now let the cross more welcome be ; 
Nor let my soul complaining toss. 

But plant Thou such a heart in me, 

As patiently shall look to Thee 
For gain up yonder for my loss. 

SCHMOLK. 



10 



GONE BEFORE. 



IT COMES WITH ITS PROPER AND DISTINCT 
MESSAGE. 

Every affliction comes to us with its proper and distinct 
message ; it has a voice for the ear of faith — a lesson for the 
heart of the child ; it writes upon the wall, for the eye to catch, 
letters of fire, but full alike of wisdom and love. If, however, 
the mind of the Christian is distracted and disturbed, the voice 
will either not be heard, or its import \^dll be mistaken — the 
writing will not itself be legible, or it will not be in a 
language which the man understands, and there will be no 
prophet '*to give the interpretation," for in wisely translating 
the language of Providence every man must be interpreter to 
himself. If, on the other hand, a man possesses his soul 
in patience," his eye will be clear, his mind calm, his look 
steady and penetrating, his apprehension just ; the affliction will 
cease to seem strange or mysterious ; everything about it will 
become clear and distinct ; he will ''stand still,*' ''lay his hand 
upon his mouth," "fold his face in his mantle," and listen 
att-entively to whatever he finds God is addressing to him. 

REV. T. BINNEY. 



Come then, affliction, if my Father bids. 

And be my frowning friend : a friend that fro\\Tis 

Is better than a smiling enemy. 

We welcome clouds that bring the former rain. 

Though they the present prospect blacken round, 

And shade the beauties of the opening year. 

That, by their stores enriched, the earth may yield 

A fruitful summer and a plenteous crop. 

CHARLES SWAIN. 



"All troubles have their commissions and instructions from 
God, what to do, where to go, whom to touch, and whom to 
pass over." 

BISHOP REYNOLDS. 



AFFLICTION. 



11 



WHAT GOLDEN FRUIT LIES HIDDEN IN ITS HUSK? 

I ASK 

"\^^lat He would have this evil do for me ? 
^Yhat is its mission ? — what its misery ? 
What golden fruit lies hidden in its husk ? 
How shall it nurse my virtue, nerve my will, 
Chasten my passions, purify my love, 
And make me in some goodly sense like Him 
Who bore the cross of evil while He lived, 
Who hung and bled upon it when He died, 
And now in glory wears the victor's crovTi ? 

JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND. 



A DISCIPLINE PRUNING REDUNDANCIES. 

Affliction, when it is well sustained, affords the means of 
improving every part of the Christian character. It is a disci- 
pline which by pruning redundancies, discovering and healing 
diseases, and exciting and encouraging languid actions and 
dormant principles, diffuses its influence over the heart, and 
consequently shows itself in the life, in more correct and 
ener^±ie practice, more diligence, more of the Christian spirit 
and of resemblance to the Christian's great and perfect Exemplar, 
more entire devotedness to the service of the ^lost High. 

NEWNHAM. 



Thou, O God, hast proved us ; thou hast tried us as silver is 
tried thou laidst affliction upon our loins." — Psa. Ixvi. lo, ii. 

^' Fear not ; for God is come to prove you, and that His fear 
may be before your faces that ye sin not." — Exod. xx. 20. 

He is like a refiner's fire, and like fuller's sope ; and He 
shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and purge them as 
gold and silver." — Mai. iii. 2 and 3. 



12 



GONE BEFORE. 



CAST AN EYE UPON HIS HAND THAT SENT IT. 

If any hard afflictiorw hath sui'prised thee, cast an eye upon 
His hand that sent it, and the other upon the sin that brought 
it. If thou thankfully receive the message. He that sent it 
will discharge the messenger 

F. QUARLES. 

Thy God hath said, ^tis good for thee 
To walk by faith, and not by sight, 

Take it on trust a little while ; 

Soon shalt thou read the mystery right, 

In the bright sunshine of His smile. 

REV. JOHN KEBLE. 

OUT OF DARK AFFLICTION COMES 
SPIRITUAL LIGHT. 

The school of the cross is the school of light ; it discovers the 
world's vanity, baseness, and vdckedness, and lets us see more of 
God's mind. Out of dark affliction comes spiritual light. 

BUNYAN. 



'^WHAT TIME I AM AFRAID, I WILL TRUST 
IN THEE." 

If God send us midnights of trial, let these be hallowed and 
consecrated to us by a more loving trust in that loving Sa-sdour, 
leading us more fondly to welcome the Lord's voice upon the 
waters, and to take as our motto and watchword for all the con- 
tingencies of an unknoTO future, * ' What time I am afraid, I 
will trust in Thee." 

rev. J. R. MACDUFF D.D. 



When afflicted, love can allow thee to groan, but not to 
gmmble. 

WILLIAM GURNALL. 



AFFLICTION. 



13 



In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of 
adversity consider, God hath set the one over against the other." 
— Eccles. 7, 14. 



*'You may have a rough voyage through hfe, but you have 
nothing to fear, while you have unbelief below, faith on deck, 
and Christ at the helm of your little bark. 

THOS. JACKSON, D.D. 



JESUS HOLDS AND GUIDES THE SHIP. 

The Christian navigates a sea 

Where various forms of death appear, 

Nor skill alas ! nor power has he 
Aright his dangerous course to steer. 

Why does he venture then from shore, 
And dare so many deaths to brave ? 

Because the land affrights him more 
Than all the perils of the wave. 

Because he hopes a port to find 
Where all his toils shall be repaid ; 

And though unskilful, weak, and blind. 
Yet Jesus bids him nothing dread. 

But though His faithful word is given, 
Who does not change, and cannot lie ; 

Yet when his bark by storms is driven. 
He doubts, and fears destruction nigh. 

Sometimes there lies a treacherous rock 
Beneath the surface of the wave ; 

He strikes — ^but yet survives the shock, 
For Jesus is at hand to save. 

But hark ! the midnight tempest roars ; 

He seems forsaken and alone ; 
But Jesus, whom he then implores. 

Unseen preserves, and leads him on. 



14 



GONE BEFORE. 



On the smooth surface of the deep 

Without a fear he sometimes lies ; 
The danger then is lest he sleep, 

And ruin seize him by surprise. 

Then sudden mists obstruct his view, 

And he enjoys the sight no more ; 
Nor does he now believe it true 

That he had ever seen the shore. 

Though fear his heart should overwhelm, 
He'll reach the port for which he's bound ; 

For Jesus holds and guides the ship, 
And safety is where He is found. 

Methinks I see him now at last 

Safe anchored in the port of joy ; 
He thinks no more of conflicts past. 

Wonder and love his heart employ. 

He wonders much at all he sees, 

He loves the Author of his bliss, 
And cries while he the scene surveys. 
Oh, what a glorious land is this ! " 

REV. JOHN KELLY. 



TRUST IN CHRIST— IN THE STORM. 

We are ready (like the apostles of old) to adore Jesus after 
the storm, but we do not trust to His power to save us in the 
storm. If we wish to please Jesus much, and be spared His 
cutting rebuke, ^'O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou 
doubt ? " — we must pray for faith to trust Jesus in the hour of 
danger — in the hour of most imminent danger, trust Him when 
we are even appearing to sink, and pale not with fear before the 
most giant billows. 

But who is sufficient for this ? Let us ever pray, * ' Lord, 
help my unbelief increase my faith." Let us fear God, and 
then we need fear nothing else. 

After all, tempests are sent for good. Stonns in the natural 



AFFLICTION. 



15 



world purify the elements. Does not the sun shine out in 
greater splendour through the cleared atmosphere after the 
storm ? Does not all nature look re\dved and refreshed after 
the tempest ? Herbs and flowers emit lovelier colours and a 
sweeter fragrance. Hills and valleys resound \^dth the echoes 
of glad birds and flocks. ^Nlan, relieved of a hea^y weight, 
looks upward and around with pleased and grateful emotions. 
So is it likewise in the spiritual world. Sin and holiness, 
coming together with a gi'eat thunder-crash, purify the sou), 
^^dthin. The power of Jesus is adored after the stonn more than 
before ; the Sun of righteousness bursts forth in richer gloiy. 
Reviving light from above, streams on the sacred page of the 
AVord. Xew and refreshing views of God's mysterious dealings 
with His people, once seen through a narrow and per^'erted 
medium, now seem to be for the best ; and, at the same time, 
healthful comdctions of our o^^Tl utter weakness and blindness, 
of our shameful unbelief, peer through the cleared atmosphere 
of the sanctified mind after the storm. And as tempests in nature 
seiwe to drive the ship all the more rapidly to the destined port, 
so spiritual tempests, blessed to the sons of clay, are instiTimental 
in hurr}dng the frail and shattered bark of the soul more 
quickly to heaven, where the Christian ever longs to be ; where 
all life's tempests shall be hushed, time's perils o'er, and sin and 
the last enemy, death, destroyed, he shall be safely moored in 
eternity's serene haven, bound by that strongest of all chains — 
love to Jesus, the only "anchor of the soul, both sure and 
steadfast, and which entereth into that within the vail." 

REV. RICHARD JONES, M.A. 



THE SHIP THAT HAS CHRIST ON BOARD. 

We often speak of life as a stormy and troubled sea ; and 
none have so keen an experience of its toils and adverse blasts 
as the disciplined follower of Christ. It is veiy true that it is 
not all darkness with the believer ; if it were so he might soon 
throw do^vn his weary oars, and suffer his bark to drift whither- 



16 



GONE BEFORE. 



soever the waves of fate might bear her. No ! the star of 
Bethlehem often looks cheerily dowoi upon him, and guides him 
on his difficult way. But it might be, if the star always shone 
with, equal brightness, or if the believer were always conscious 
of the presence and protection of the Saviour that he would not 
value, so highly as it deserved, a blessing of which he did no^ 
know the want. We are so apt to get into the habit of con- 
sidering our mercies as things which belong to us, and form a 
part of our being, that we require to be taught by their loss the 
double lesson, that they really were necessary ' to us, and that 
they came to us from the bounty of our gracious heavenly 
Father. And thus the Lord sometimes suffers His people to go 
awhile without Him, in order that feeling the want of Him, they 
may in the end be led to love Him, and cling to Him with a more 
intense affection. Of one thing we are sure, that the ship that 
has Christ on board, is sure at last of reaching that happy shore 
where "the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary 
are at rest. 

REV. JOHN WALTON MURRAY, B.A, 



THEY COME TO TEACH US LESSONS. 

How weary and how worthless this life at times appears ! 
What days of heavy musings, what hours of bitter tears ! 
How dark the storm-clouds gather across the wintry skies ! 
How desolate and cheerless the path before us lies ! 

And yet these days of dreariness are sent us from above. 
They do not come in anger, but in faithfulness and love ; — 
They come to teach us lessons which bright ones could not 
yield. 

And to leave us blest and thankful when their purpose is ful- 
filled. 

They come to draw us nearer our Father and our God, 
More earnestly to seek His face, and listen to His word, 
And to feel, if now around us a desert land we see, 
Without the star of promise, what would its darkness be ? 



AFFLICTION. 



17 



They come to lay us lowly and humbled in the dust, 
All self-deception swept away, all creature hope and trust, 
Our helplessness, our vileness, our guilt to make us own. 
And flee for hope and refuge to Jesus Christ alone. 

They come to break the fetters which here detain us fast, 
And force our long-reluctant hearts to rise to heaven at last, 
And brighten every prospect of that eternal home 
Where grief and disappointment and fear can never come. 

Then turn not in despondence, poor weary heart, away. 
But meekly journey onwards, through the dark and cloudy day ; 
E'en now the bow of promise is above thee shining bright. 
And soon a joyful morning shall dissipate the night. 

Thy God hath not forgot thee, and when He sees it best, 
Will lead thee into sunshine, will give thee hours of rest ; 
And all thy pain and sorrow, when the pilgrimage is o'er, 
Shall end in heavenly blessedness, and joys for evermore. 

SPITTA. 



TIME OF VISITATION. 

There are providential events which may be regarded in the 
light of a time of visitation " to those concerned in them. In 
trouble, in sorrow, in bereavement, God comes nigh to men, 
and makes His voice to be heard, enforcing His own claims and 
their most solemn duty. To how many of you has ' He thus 
come ? You were deaf to His appeals while all went well with 
you, as men speak ; and so He took you aside, and in the silent 
chamber of affliction compelled you to give heed to Him. He 
sent you a great sorrow ; He crossed you in your most cherished 
project ; He took away the object of your fondest regard ; He 
did all this, not for His own pleasure, but for your profit. He 
could not bear that you should be alienated from Him. How 
has it .been with you in those times of visitation? — that sweet 
dawn of your life ; those sanctuary influences ; that direct 
appeal of your heavenly Father to your soul ; the trials that 




18 



GONE BEFORE. 



have met you in your way ; — how have you regarded them all ? 
Have they been to you what God has meant them to be ? 

REV. C. M. MERRY. 



Are afflictions aught 
But mercies in disguise — th' alternate cup, 
Medicinal though bitter, and prepared 
By love's own hand for salutary ends. 

DAVID MALLET. 

There is healing in the bitter cup. 

SOUTHEY. 



'Tis a physic 
That's bitter to sweet end. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



O Lord, correct me ; but with judgment ; not in Thine anger, 
lest Thou bring me to nothing." — ^Jer. x. 24. 

' * Fear thou not, saith the Lord, for I am with thee ; but I 
will not make a full end of thee, but correct thee in measure.'* — 
Jer. xlvi. 28. 

**FoR He will not lay upon man more than right, that he 
should enter into judgment with God." — ^Job xxxiv. 23. 



O MY GOD, MY GOD, RELIEVE ME. 

O DO not use me 
After my sins, look not on my desert, 

But on Thy glory ! then Thou wilt reform, 
And not refuse me ; for Thou only art 
The mighty God, but I a silly worm : 
O do not bruise me ! 



AFFLICTION. 



19 



O do not urge me ! 
For what account can Thy ill steward make ? 

I have abused thy stock, destroyed Thy woods, 
Sucked all Thy magazines : my heart did ache, 
Till it found out how to consume Thy goods : 
O do not scourge me ! 

O do not blind me ! 
I have deserved that an Egyptian night 

Should thicken all my powers ; because my lust 
Hath still sewed fig-leaves to exclude Thy light : 
But I am frailty and already dust : 
O do not grind me ! 

O do not fill me 
With the turned vial of Thy bitter wrath ! 

For Thou hast other vessels full of blood, 
A part whereof my Saviour emptied hath 

E'en unto death ; since He died for my good, 
O do not kill me ! 

But oh, reprieve me ! 
For Thou hast life and death at Thy command ; 

Thou art both Judge and Saviour^ feast and rod, 
Cordial and corrosive : put not Thy hand 
Into the bitter box ; but, O my God, 
My God, relieve me. 

GEORGE HERBERT. 



Affliction is a kind of moral gymnasium, in which the 
disciples of Christ are trained to robust exercise, hardy exertion, 
and severe conflict 

HANNAH MORE. 



God hath many sharp* cutting instruments and rough files for 
the polishing of His jewels ; and those He especially loves, and 
means to make the most resplendent, He hath oftenest His 
tools upon. 

archbishop leighton. 



20 



GONE BEFORE. 



WHERE THERE IS XO STORM, THERE CAX BE 
NO STILLIXG OF THE TROUBLED SOUL. 

Unless we traly feel affliction when it comes upon us, and 
allow it to go to our heart, it never be a trial to us ; and 
where there is no trial there can neither be need for fortitude nor 
room for submission ; or, to use metaphorical language, where 
there is no storm, there can be no stilling of the troubled soul. 

Accordingly, we find that even Christ Himself had so 
exquisite a sense of suffering that He said, ''M'y soul is 
exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." " Xow is My soul 
troubled ; and what shall I say ? Save me from this hour."' 
"0 My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me. '' 
"We are not to suppose, then, that we are wanting in submission 
to Heaven if we feel our trials deeply^ provided we put do\Mi all 
sinful repinings, and express the same reverential submission 
vdlh. our Lord. Xevertheless, not as I \^dll, but as Thou v-ilt. " 
To be indifferent to suffering, or to make light of it, so far from 
being a duty, is a most heinous sin ; it is a \drtual refusing to bend 
under the hand of the Almighty — a despising of the chastening 
of the Lord." 

REV. PETER GR-\XT. 



HAVE chosen thee in the furnace of affliction. " 

— Isaiah xhiii. lo. 



AFFLICTIOX IS A DIVIXE DIET. 

Affliction is a divine diet, which, though it be not pleasing 
to mankind, yet Almighty God hath often, ver\' often imposed 
it as a good, though bitter physic, to those children whose souls 
are dearest to Him. 

IZA.\K WALTON. 

THERE IS A EES SOX IX EVERY TRIAL. 

When the trial comes, what we need is not deliverance from 
the trial ; that might not be good for us ; and what we are not 



AFFLICTION. 



21 



perhaps prepared to ask for as yet, for we do not thoroughly 
understand the tria. ; and until we have an intelligent apprehen- 
sion of Its meaning, we shall not ask believingly. ^Yhat I say 
v/e are not yet prepared to ask for is, complete submission and 
complete resignation. But what we want when the trial comes 
15, first and foremost, divine wisdom, that we may be able first 
rightly to understand the true meaning of God in the discipline, 
that we may be able to see what His purpose is, in thus dealing 
with us. There is a voice m the trial, there is a lesson in the 
trial, there is an mtent and purpose in the dealing of our 
heavenly Father with us ; and what we need is divine wisdom, 
in order that we may hearken to that voice, in order that we 
may apprehend and interpret the meaning, in order that we may 
fully see through the design which God has towards us. What 
is it that God means ? Is it that He wants to fan the flame of 
some slumbering virtue ? Is it that He wants to prune off some 
noxious branch ? Is it that He wants to punish us for some sin 
that we are committing ? Is it that He wants to quicken us in 
something in which we are defective ? What we need is wisdom 
to understand and rightly interpret the meaning of God in the 
discipline. Then, having that wisdom, we shall receive the 
trial submissively and with resignation, and exclaim from our 
heart, ''It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good." 

REV. EMILIUS BAYLEY, D.D. 



Just heaven but tries our virtue by affliction ; 
And oft the cloud which wraps the present hour 
Serves but to brighten all our future days. 

JOHN BROWX. 



^'THE SHADOW OF DEATH." 

The light would never be so acceptable were it not for that 
usual intercourse of darkness. Too much honey doth turn to 
gaU, and too much joy, even spiritual, would make us wanton. 



22 



GONE BEFORE. 



God will have them that shall walk in light to feel now and then 
what it is to sit in the shadow of death." 

BISHOP HOOKER. 



THY SUFFICIENCY IS OF GOD. 

Timid and discouraged believer, shrinking back at the sight of 
the perils of climbing the hill Difficulty, or afraid as thou hearest 
the roar of the lions in front of the palace Beautiful, lift up thy 
head ; be not discouraged, thy sufficiency is of God. What 
frightens thee ? — affliction? God is thy health. Persecution? 
God is thy crown. Perplexity ? God is thy counsel. Death ? 
God is thine everlasting life. Only trust in God, and all shall 
be well ; life shall glide thee into death, and death shall glide 
thee into heaven. ' ' Who shall separate us from the love of 
Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or famine, or nakedness, 
or peril, or sword ? Nay [as if these things were hardly to be 
named at all] nay, in all these things we are more than con- 
querors through Him that hath loved us." Oh the royalty of 
the language ! 

Let doubt then and danger my progress oppose, 
They only make heaven more sweet at the close ; 
Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy. 
For one glimpse of His love turns them all into joy. 
Come joy or come sorrow, whate'er may befall, 
One hour with my God will make up for them all. 

REV. MORLEY PUNSHON. 



LET NOT YOUR HEART BE TROUBLED. 

Look, my brethren, beyond the grave, and consider both the 
glorious nature of the godly believer's prospects in that wondrous 
and boundless world, and the comforts, the raptures of soul, the 
ecstasies, the blessed assurances they, by way of anticipation, 
reflect back upon his pathway here. My dear friends, this is \ 
an overpowering subject, transcending the utmost efforts of | 



AFFLICTION. 



23 



human eloquence or a finite pen. Let us then hear the Saviour's 
own words in reference to this subject, Let not your heart 
be troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in Me. In My 
Father's house are many mansions ; I go to prepare a place for 
you." And the apostle — **If we believe that Jesus died and 
rose again, even so also them that sleep in Jesus will God brmg 
with Him." Oh, joy of joys ! The last enemy is overcome ; 
"for both He that sanctifieth, and they that are sanctified are 
of one." And as they, ''the children, are partakers of flesh 
and blood. He also Himself likewise took part of the same, that 
through death He might destroy him that had the power of 
death, that is, the devil, and deliver them who through fear of 
death were all their lifetime subject to bondage." Therefore 
take comfort, Christians, when your friends m Jesus fall asleep. 

* ' Why inconsolable as those 
To whom no hope is given ? 
Death is the healer of our woes. 
And wafts our souls to heaven." 
** A few short years of conflict past, 
We meet around the throne at last." 

And when the eye of the thoughtful and experienced wanders 
down the dark and gloomy vale of the uncertain future — " when 
languor and disease invade this trembling house of clay — " ' ' when 
» troubles assail and dangers affright " — " when gathering clouds 
around we view" — when *' friend after friend departs," what 
can support or cheer the drooping soul like the Christian's hope 
of a coming and blessed immortality ; *'a hope that maketh not 
ashamed ;" ''the evening beam that smiles the clouds away," and 
j that lends to everything he does, to all he experiences, to all he 
I hopes or fears in this world, the interest, the pathos, the sublimity 
of the eternal ? 

REV. S. H. SIMPSON. 



LOOK ABOVE THIS WORLD OF SORROWS. 

Oh ! my soul, look above this world of sorrows ! Hast thou 
so long felt the smarting rod of affliction, and no better under- 
stood its meaning? Is not every stroke to drive thee hence? 



24 



GONE BEFORE. 



Is not its voice like that to Elijah, What doest thou here ?" 
Dost thou forget thy Lord's prediction, **In the world ye shall 
have tribulation, in Me ye shall have peace?'' Ah, my dear 
Lord, I feel Thy meaning ; it is \^Titten in my flesh, engraved in 
my bones. My heart Thou aimest at ; Thy rod drives. Thy 
silken cord of love draws : and all to bring me to Thyself. Lord, 
can such a heart be worth Thy having ? Make it worthy, and 
then it is Thme ; take it to Thyself, and then take me. This 
clod hath hfe to stir, but not to rise. As the feeble child to the 
tender mother, it looketh up to Thee, and stretcheth out the 
hands, and fam would have Thee take it up. Though I cannot 
say, '^My soul longeth after Thee," yet I can say I long for such 
a heart. "The spirit is ^^alling, the flesh is weak. " My spirit 
cries, " Let Thy kingdom come ; " but the flesh is afraid. Thou 
should'st hear my prayer, and take me at my word. Oh ! blessed 
be Thy grace, which makes use of my corruptions to kill them- 
selves ; for I fear my fears, and sorrow for my sorrows, and long 
for the greater longings ; and thus the painful means of attaining 
my desires increase my weariness, and that makes me groan to 
be at rest. Lord, I am content to stay Thy time, and go Thy 
way, so Thou wilt exalt me also in Thy season, and take me into 
Thy bam when Thou seest me ripe. In the mean time I may 
desire, though I may not repine , I may believe and wish, though 
I make not any sinful haste ; I am willing to wait for Thee, but 
not to lose Thee ; and when Thou seest me too contented with 
Thine absence, then quicken my languid desires, and blow up 
the dying spark of love, and leave me not till I am able un- 
feignediy to cry out, ' ' As the hart panteth after the water brooks, 
so panteth my soul after Thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for 
God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before 
God V' " My conversation is in heaven, from whence I look for 
the Saviour." " My affections are set on things above, where 
Christ sitteth, at the right hand of God.*' " I walk by faith, and 
not by sight," — ''willing rather to be absent from the body, and 
present vdth the Lord." 

RICHARD BAXTER. 

'*My spirit faileth." — Psalm cxliii. 7. 

*' He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no 
might He increaseth strength. " — Isaiah xl. 29. 



AFFLICTION. 



25 



THE HEAVENLY SCULPTOR WORKS ON THEE. 

Shrink not from suffering. Each dear blow 
From which, thy smitten spirit bleeds 

Is but a messenger to show 
The renovation which it needs. 

The earthly sculptor smites the rock ; 

Loud the relentless hammer rings ; 
And from the rude unshapen block 

At length imprisoned beauty brings. 

Thou art that rude unshapen stone. 

And waitest till the arm of strife 
Shall make its crucifixions know, 

And smite and carve them into life. 

The heavenly Sculptor works on thee ; 

Be patient. Soon His arm of might 
Shall from thy prison's darkness free, 

And change thee to a form of light. 

THOMAS C. UPHAM. 



SENT TO PROMOTE OUR HIGHEST INTERESTS. 

Religion points the sufferer to the spring whence affliction 
flows ; and this has a powerful influence to tranquillize the mind. 
It shows that though ' ' man is bom to trouble, as the sparks 
fly upward, ' yet that affliction * * comes not forth of the dust, 
neither does trouble spring out of the ground." It does not 
merely show the rod, but it cleaves asunder the cloud from 
whence it issues, shows the hand which guides it, and reveals 
the smiling face of a forgiving God. It tells him that all his 
trials, all his pams, are the appointments of a Father who often 
loves best when He smites, who will be with him in his trials, 
and **make them all work together for his good," to promote 
his highest intere^s and his everlasting happiness. This enables 
the Christian, when calamity succeeds calamity, when evil tidings 
approach from every quarter, when the storm gathers around him 
in all its blackness, and descends in all its fury, to say, " Why 



26 



GONE BEFORE. 



art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted 
within me ? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise Him, who 
is the health of my countenance, and my God." 

REV. STEPHEN BRIDGE. 



A FLAME IS SHINING TO LIGHT THY PATH OF 
GLOOM. 

There are dark hours of sadness, dark hours of hopeless pain, 
When thoughts akin to madness flash wildly through the brain ; 
When nameless anguish presses the heart beyond control. 
And deepest gloom possesses the faint and trembling soul 
When every prop seems taken from life's receding shore, 
And the mind, tempest-shaken, obeys the will no more. 
But who, from yonder heaven, pities each earthly woe ? 
Who yonder cross hath given for every grief below ? 
Thine arms around it twining, to hope and prayer give room, 
For there a flame is shining to light thy path of gloom ; 
An angel form advances, and leads thee to that strand 
Whence thy delighted glances may see the promised land. 

From the Ger7nan of Novalis, 



The troubles of my heart are enlarged. — Psa. xxv. 17. 
' * In the world ye shall have tribulation : but be of good cheer ; 
I have overcome the world. These things I have spoken unto 
you, that in Me ye might have peace." — ^John xvi. 33. 

Continue in the faith ; we must through much tribulation 
enter into the kingdom of God." — Acts xiv. 22. 



When God is specially dark. He brings out in the end, some 
good or blessing in which the believer discovers that his heavenly 
Father only understood his wants better than he did himself. 
God was dark in his way, only because His goodness was too 
-deep in counsel for him to follow it to its mark. 

REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D. 



AFFLICTION. 



27 



THE CHARTER OF OUR BIRTH. 

Wherever love hath trodden — there 

Affliction comes, a kindred power. 

So twines the weed around the flower, 
So poison taints the odorous air. 
It is the charter of our birth, 

That hope and joy with fleeting smile 

Should bless our pilgrimage awhile, 
But find no resting-place on earth ; 
Each is alike withheld or given 
To fit us for their home — their heaven. 

CANON DALE. 



IF GOD COMES WITH IT, IT IS WELL. 

Who doubteth but God can bring us to heaven through ad- 
versity and suffering ? We see many rivers, but we know not 
their first spring and original fountain ; yet they have a beginning. 
When ye are come to the other side of the water, and have set 
down your foot on the shore of glorious eternity, and look back 
again to the waters and to your wearisome journey, and shall 
see, in that clear glass of endless glory, nearer to the bottom of 
God's wisdom, ye shall then be forced to say, " If God had done 
othervidse Mdth me than He hath done, I had never come to the 
enjoying of this crown of glory. " It is your part now to believe, 
suffer, and hope and wait on ; for I protest, in the presence of 
that all-discerning eye, who knoweth what I write and what I 
think, that I would not want the sweet experience of the consola- 
tions of God for the bitterness of affliction. Nay, whether God 
come to His children with a rod or a crown, if He come Himself 
with it, it is well. Welcome, welcome, ' Jesus, what way soever 
Thou come, if we can get a sight of Thee ! And sure I am it 
is better to be sick, providing Christ come to the bedside, and 
draw by [aside] the curtains, and say, Courage, I am thy 
salvation," than to enjoy health, being lusty and strong, and 
never to be visited of God. 

SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. 



28 



GONE BEFORE. 



HOWEVER RUGGED, IT ^yAS THE RIGHT WAY. 

Those noxious %Yeeds which so luxuriantly spring up \^'ithin 
us during the sunshine of prosperity require the hand of adversity 
to extirpate them, and the ^^dnds of affliction must blow upon us 
in order to dissipate those pestilential vapours of pride, self- 
satisfaction, and vanity which threaten to extinguish the secret 
flame of piety in the soul. When men ''take the timbrel and 
the harp, and rejoice at the sound of the organ, '' they are too 
often inclined to "say unto God, Depart from us, for we desire 
not the knowledge of Thy ways. " " What is the Almighty, that we 
should serv^e Him ?" "But when they are holden in cords of 
affliction, then He showeth them their work and their transgres- 
sions that they have exceeded. He openeth also their ear to 
discipline, and commandeth that they return from iniquity.'' 
And how frequently have the ser^-ants of God, on taking a 
retrospective view of His dealings towards them, seen cause to 
rejoice in those very events and circumstances which at one time 
they thought too much for them to bear I And surely, if it be so 
even in this world of darkness and imperfection, we may reason- 
ably suppose that it ^^dll be much more so in the world of glory 
hereafter, when all the mists of prejudice and of error shall be 
perfectly and for ever dispelled, and when "the ways of God 
shall be fully vindicated to man." Then shall it appear to every 
happy soul, that however rugged and barren may have been the 
way by which he was conducted to that city of eternal habitation, 
yet it was the right way, and that the discipline of which he most 
complained was that for which he had the gi'eatest reason to be 
thankful. It will then be seen and thankfully owned that God 
hath done all things ^\dsely and well, and that, through His 
sanctifpng blessing, our "light afflictions, which were but for a 
moment, have wrought out for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory.'' Such then being the unerring \dsdom 
of that God with whom we have to do, let us endeavour to avoid 
all fretting and repining under the pressure of our present trials 
and troubles, and trust evers^thing that concerns us to Him whose 
ways are past finding out, saying with meek submission, " Even 
so, Father, for so it seemeth good in Thy sight." 



REV. PETER GRANT. 



AFFLICTION. 



29 



LET ME ON THY LOVE REPOSE. 

When afflictions cloud my sky, 

When the tide of sorrow flows, 
When Thy rod is Hfted high, 

Let me on Thy love repose, — 
Stay the rough wind 

When thy chilling east wind blows. 

When the vale of death appears, — 

Faint and cold this mortal clay, — • 
Kind Forerunner, soothe my fears, 

Light me through the darksome way^ — 
Break the shadows, 

Usher in eternal day. 

JANE TAYLOR. 



'^HOWBEIT OUR GOD TURNED THE CURSE 
INTO A BLESSING." 

Religion shows a man the design of his affliction ; and the 
magnitude, the benevolence, and the grandeur of that design 
take off the pressure of the burden and the keenness of the 
stroke. It shows him that God '^does not afflict willingly, nor 
grieve the children of men," but that it is for their profit, that 
they may be saved ; that all their personal trials, all their 
domestic afflictions, all their hea\7 losses, all their blighted 
hopes and withered expectations, are "working together for 
their good." In the midst of their days of anguish and their 
nights of pain, as they stand by the beds or at the sepulchre of 
their dear departed ones, it cheers them with the assurance that 
these afflictions, which are but for a moment, are ''working out 
for them an exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; " that they 
are placed in the school only to be taught of God ; that they 
are put under discipline only to be prepared for heaven ; that 
they are sent into the furnace only till their dross is purged 
away ; and then they will be introduced to that better world 
where the heart will never be divided between God and another, 
where the mind \^dll never be polluted, and the spirit will never 
be worldly. Oh, brethren, is not this enough to make us 



30 



GONE BEFORE. 



rejoice In the midst of tribulation, to fill us with transport in the 
scene of trial, and to make us go on our way ^ath gladness ? 

REV. STEPHEN BRIDGE. 



Wherefore hast Thou afflicted Thy servant ?" 

— Numbers xi. II. 
He chastened us for our profit, that we might be partakers 
of His holiness." — Heb. xii. lo. 



A WOUNDED SPIRIT. 

No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, 

No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals. 

And thou, sad sufferer under nameless ill. 

That yields not to the touch of human skill, 

Improve the kind occasion, understand 

A Father's frow, and kiss His chastening hand. 

cowper. 



Affliction is not sent m vain 
From that good God who chastens whom He loves ! 

southey. 



O Lord, my strength and my fortress, and my refuge in the 
day of affliction." — ^Jer. xvi. 19. 

'* When they in their trouble did turn unto the Lord God, 
and sought Him, He was found of them." — 2 Chron. xv. 4. 

**G0D is our refuge and strength; a very present help in 
trouble." — Psalm xlvi. I. 



IN GOD'S FURNACE ARE HIS CHILDREN TRIED, 

He that from dross would win the precious ore, 

Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye, 
The subtle, searching process to explore, 

Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by. 



AFFLICTION. 



81 



When in the molten silver's virgin mass, 
He meets his pictured face as in a glass. 

Thus in God's furnace are His children tried ; 

Thrice happy they who to the end endure I 
But who the fiery trial may abide ? 

Who from the crucible come forth so pure, 
That He, whose eyes of flame look through the whole, 
May see His image perfect in the soul ? 

Not with an evanescent glimpse alone, 

As in that mirror the refiner's face, 
But stamped with heaven's broad signet, there be shov.Ti 

Immanuel's features, full of truth and ^ace, — 
And round that seal of love this motto be, 

Not for a moment, but eternity 1 " 

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 



BY AFFLICTION GOD BRINGS US TO 
HEAVEN AND HAPPINESS. 

Here God pulls them by the eare ; by affliction He \^"ill bring 
them to heaven and happiness. Blessed are they that mourne ; 
for they shall be comforted. A blessed and an happy state, if con- 
sidered aright, it is to be so troubled. It is good for me that I 
have been afflicted ; before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I 
keepe Thy word. " Tribulation workes patience ; patience, hope ; 
and by such like crosses and calamities we are driven from the 
state of securitie, so that affliction is a school or academy wherein 
the best scholers are prepared to the commencements of the 
Deity. And though it be most troublesome and grievous for the 
time, yet know this, it comes by God's permission and provi- 
dence ; he is a spectator of thy groanes and teares, still present 
vTLth. thee ; the \ery hairs of thy head are numbered ; not one 
of them can fall to the ground without the express will of God ; 
He will not suffer thee to be tempted above measure, when He 
corrects thee ; the Lord will not quench the smoaking flaxe, or 
breake the bruised reed. 

ROBERT BURTON. 



32 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE LORD A REFUGE. 

In the dark winter of affliction's hour, 

When summer friends and pleasures haste away, 

And the ^^Tecked heart perceives how frail each power 
It made a refuge and believed a stay ; 

When man all mild and weak is seen to be — 

There's none like Thee, O Lord, there's none like Thee. 

Thou in adversity canst be a sun ; 

Thou hast a healing balm, a sheltering tower, 
The peace, the truth, the life, the love of One, 

Nor wound, nor grief, nor stonn can overpower : 
Gifts of a King ; gifts frequent, and yet free ; — 
There's none like Thee, O Lord, none, none like Thee ! 

MISS JEWSBURY. 

THE HAND THAT AFFLICTS BELONGS TO 
THE HEART THAT LO\XS. 

There is a way in which the Lord shows Himself especially 
the consolation of those that tmst Him, and that is m the provi- 
dential dispensations of God. Many of you have experienced 
the dispensations of God to be a hea\y and an afflictive burden, 
although when we remember the Hand which sends them we 
ought not so to regard them. They are intended to be felt ; 
they are intended to exercise us ; they are intended to tiy our 
faith, and our patience, and our submissiveness to God ; and they 
will bring about God's purpose, if we are really and tmly re- 
ceiving them as from the hand of God ; if we look up to the Lord 
Jesus and consider this — that it is on His shoulder that the 
government of all things is ; that the hand that afflicts belongs to 
the heart that loves ; and He says, As many as I love, I rebuke 
and chasten and Fie chastens as a kind father chastens his 
children, **not for His pleasure, but for our profit, and that we 
might be partakers of His holiness ; " and all things in the hands 
of God, all the afflictive dispensations with which He tries His 
children, all the ways in \^'hich He crosses them, they are all 
overruled by God to work together for good to them that love 
HiiiL When we look at the dispensations of God we must 
look at His character, and not merely at His acts. If we look 



AFFLICTION. 



33 



merely at His acts, we shall be sure to misunderstand God, 
because some of His acts appear to us unmitigatedly evil, and 
some at times fill our hearts ^yith joy, and we think them un- 
qualified good ; but experience subsequently shows that those 
which seemed so evil are not so e\il as they seemed at first ; 
but the holy combination — the mixture by God of the evil and 
the good — works together for good to them that love Him. I 
say, then, that when we take into consideration the character of 
Him who is ordering all things after the counsel of His own will, 
we may rest upon Him as "the consolation of Israel." God, 
who sees the end from the beginning, is acquainted with all the 
steps which lead to the city of habitation ; and He is leading 
them there by the right way. 

REV. JOHN WM. REEVE, M.A. 



There is no gloom on earth, for God above 

Chastens in love ; 
Transmuting sorrow into golden joy, 

Free from alloy. 
His dearest attribute is still to bless, 
And man's most welcome h}min is grateful cheerfulness. 

HORACE SMITH. 



GRIEF IS NOT IMMORTAL. 

The \™ter being over, in order comes the spring, 
Which doth green herbs discover, and cause the birds to sing. 
The night also expired, then comes the morning bright, 
"\Miich is so much desired by all that love the light. 
This may learn them that mourn, to put their grief to flight ; 
The spring succeedeth winter, and day must follow night. 
He, therefore, that sustaineth affliction or distress. 
Which every member paineth, and findeth no release : 
Let such, therefore, despair not, but on firm hope depend, 
Whose griefs immortal are not, and therefore must have end. 
They that faint ^^dth complaint therefore are to blame : 
They add to their afflictions, and amphfy the same. 

D 



34 



GONE BEFORE. 



For if they could with patience awhile possess the mind, 

By inward consolations they might refreshing find, 

To sweeten all their crosses, that little time they dure : 

So might they gam by losses, and sharp would sweet procure. 

But if the mind be inclined to unquietness, 

That only may be called the worst of all distress. 

He that is melancholy, detesting all delight, 

His wits by sottish folly are ruinated quite. 

Sad discontent and murmurs to him are incident : 

Were he possest of honours, he could not be content. 

Sparks of joy fly aAvay, floods of care arise ; 

And all delightful motions in the conception dies. 

But those that are contented, however things do fall, 

^luch anguish is prevented, and they soon freed from all. 

They finish all their labours ^^-ith much felicity, 

Their joy in trouble savours of perfect piety. 

Cheerfulness doth express a settled pious mind, 

Which is not prone to gmdging, from munnuring refin'd. 

ANN COLLINS (1653). 

WHAT IS TRIBULATION? 

Now what is tribulation ? As a matter of experience there 
is not one of you, perhaps, who would not say that he knows all 
too well what tribulation is. Ah ! how many dark pictures are 
now crowding the galleries of your memon,' as I speak on this 
theme ! The sick chamber, the desolated home ; that day when 
your rebellious Absalom was cut off, or when you found Ahi- 
tophel "lifted up his heel against you ; " that day when no sun 
seemed to shine, and the very heavens were hung with the 
S}Tnbols of mourning ; that night which seemed to swallow up 
into its black shadows all your life, and you looked not for the 
dsi\vn. ; that loss, that harsh treatment, that crael calumny, that 
long sickness, that trembling vision through the portals of death. 
Yes, you remember it all. Tribulation is familiar gi-ound to you 
— to most of us. But while, as a matter of experience, it may be 
so familiar, do we all understand what it truly means ? so much 
so as that we can make the apostle's language our o^^TL without 
seeming extravagant to ourselves, "We gloiy in tribulaticn 
also " ? 



AFFLICTION. 



85 



The word "tribulation," observes Trench, ''is derived from 
the Latin tribiihtm, that word signifying the thrashing instru- 
ment, or roller, by which the Romans separated the corn from 
the husks; and ' tribulatio,' in its primary significance, was 
the act of this separation. But some Latin writer of the 
Christian Church appropriated the word and image for the setting 
forth of a higher truth ; and sorrow, and distress, and adversity, 
being the appointed means for the separating in men of their 
chaff from their wheat ; of whatever in them was light, and 
trivial, and poor, from the solid and the true ; therefore he called 
these son-ows and gidefs 'tribulations,' — threshings, that is, of 
the inner spiritual man, without which there could be no fitting 
him for the heavenly garner." Thus, in coming at the histoiy of 
the word, we come at the meaning of the thing. Our tribu- 
lations are but the instruments of the Lord of the harvest for 
purifying our souls. There is another word \^-hich we sometimes 
make use of in connection with our sorrows, which is akin to this 
in its signification, though I fear we rarely think of the lesson it 
conveys. We speak of such and such a grief as a "harrowing " 
grief ; of such a bereavement, of such a calamity, as harrowing to 
the soul. Now do we ever think that the harrow is a yory im- 
portant implement ; that its work is to break up the large, h^a^y 
clods, and prepare the ground for the reception of the seed ; and 
that thus by these sorrows God is breaking our stubborn wills 
and preparing our hearts for the sowing of the Spirit. The uses 
of our gifts are divine ; and this must not only reconcile us to 
them, but enable us to glory in them. "And not only so, but 
we glory in tribulations also, knowing that tribulation v^■orketh 
patience, and patience, experience ; and experience, hope ; and 
hope maketh not ashamed : because the love of God is shed 
abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us." 
(Rom. V. 3 — 5). You see the strength of the apostle's argument. 
He connects all his afflictions with God. He has got God ; 
therefore, he has got all, and can glory in all. If God 
is his, all things come from God, and therefore he will wel- 
come all things. To connect a thing Avith God, whatever 
guise it wear, is at once to make it an angel. Your visitation 
may be draped in the most sad and sombre vestments, may wear 
a most repulsive aspect, may carry a whip of scorpions in its 
hand, and chastise you without seeming pity or care till your 



36 



GONE BEFORE. 



back bleed with the strokes, and your heart ache \Yith. the pain ; 
but still let it show God's commission in its hand, and you can 
receive it as a heavenly visitant, bringing you nought but bless- 
ing. Blessing is intended, and blessing it is. But it is only to 
the child of God that this is given to be seen. The worldling 
sees and knows nothing but the sorrow, and the weeping, and 
the pain. Alas ! their tribulations are just what they seem to 
be. Until you connect the rod with " Him who hath appointed 
it " it is but a rod, and its strokes will only smart. But when 
you come to know God in Christ, as the apostle knew Him, you 
will kiss the rod and glory in your tribulation. 

Said ]\Iadame Guyon, when ecclesiastical t\Tannyhad shut her 
up in the foul dungeons of the castle of Vincennes, — 

" A little bird I am, shut from the fields of air, 
And in my cage I sit and sing to Him who placed me there ; 
Well pleased a prisoner to be, 
Because, my God, it pleaseth Thee." 

And all :hey who know the same God may, in time of their 
tribulation, sing the same song. 

These tribulations drive us to the anticipation of another world. 
^Yhile sunny skies are over our head we think only of the pre- 
sent, bu<- an overcast heaven sends our thoughts into the future. 
For " hope that is seen is not hope." It is when our affections 
and our faith travel after the unseen that we begin to hope. And 
*Sve are saved by hope." It is a good sign when a man begins 
to unmoor his thoughts and his loves from 7zo7a to hereafter. And 
what impels a man to do this like the experience of tribulation ? 
As the gloaming deepens, the evening star appears ; so the night 
of our trial is the birth-hour of hope. 

REV. JOSEPH HALSEY. 

ANTIDOTE AGAINST DESPAIR IN TROUBLE. 

Recollections of former mercies is the proper antidote 
against a temptation to despair in the day of calamity ; and as, 
in the divine dispensations, which are always unifonn and like 
themselves, whatever has happened, happens again when the 
circumstances are similar, the experience of ancient times is to 
be called in to our aid, and duly consulted. Nay, we may 
remember the time when we ourselves were led to compose and 



AFFLICTION. 



87 



utter a song of joy and triumph, on occasion of signal mercies 
vouchsafed to us. Upon these topics we should, in the night of 
affliction, commune with our own hearts and make diligent 
search, as Daniel did in Babylon, into the cause, the nature, and 
the probable continuance of our troubles, with the proper methods 
of shortening and bringing them to an end, by suffering them 
to have their intended and full effect in a sincere repentance 
and thorough reformation. 

BISHOP HORXE. 

GRIEF COMES FROM HEAVEN. 

Our griefs resemble 
Each other but in this ; grief comes from Heaven ; 
Each thinks his o\m the bitterest trial given ; 
Each wonders at the sorrows of his lot ; 
His neighbour's sufferings presently forgot, 
Though mde the difference which our eyes can see, 
Not only in grief's kind, but its degree. 
God grants to some all joys for their possession. 

Nor loss, nor cross, the favoured mortal mourns ; 
While some toil on, outside those bounds of blessing, 

Whose weary feet for ever tread on thorns. 
But over all our tears God's rainbow bends ; 
To all our cries a pitying ear He lends ; 
Yea, to the feeble sound of man's lament 
How often have His messengers been sent ! 
No barren glory circles round His throne, 
By mercy's errands were His angels kno\^Ti ; 
Where hearts were hea\y, and where eyes were dim, 
There did the brightness radiate from Him. 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 

THERE IS NO GETHSEMANE WITHOUT ITS 
ANGEL. 

Dear friends, in passing through the Christian course and the 
Christian life you \^dll often have times of refreshing, visions 
of the Highest, and you will sometimes have times of depression^ 
hours of tears and gi-ief. Well, you may call these your Tabors 



38 



GONE BEFORE. 



and your Gethsemanes, and you will do right. It is a blessed 
thing to have a Tabor now and then, to be helped by God, have 
about us angelic forms, lovely messengers from the Supreme. 
But we cannot always be there ; sometimes we have our Geth- 
semanes. Brethren, if you are faithful to Christ He will some- 
times take you into the mountain, and you shall be there with 
Him in glory ; and sometimes you will be in the garden, and 
you will be there in sorrow and tears. But if you are faithful to 
Him, you will find as you go through your Christian life, that 
there is no Gethsemane without its angel. 

REV. T. BINNEY. 



How long wilt Thou forget me, O Lord ? for ever ? How 
long wilt Thou hide Thyself from me ? Psalm xiii. i. 

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
morning " — Psalm xxx. 5. 



THE IMMUTABILITY OF THE PROMISE OF GOD A 
STRONG GROUND OF CONSOLATION. 

There is not one perfection of the Godhead but may be said 
to be, and truly is, immutable. None of them will appear so 
glorious without this beam, the Sun of immutability, which 
renders them highly excellent, without the least shadow of im- 
perfection. How cloudy would His blessedness be if it were 
changeable ! — how dim His wisdom if it might be obscured ! — 
how feeble His power if it were capable to be sickly and languish ! 
How would mercy lose much of its lustre if it could change into 
wrath ! and justice much of its dread if it could be turned into 
mercy, while the object of justice remains unfit for mercy, and 
one that hath need of mercy is the object of the divine anger ! But 
unchangeableness is a thread that runs through the whole web ; 
it is the enamel of all the rest ; none of them without it could 
look with a triumphant aspect. The immutability of the pro- 
mise of Cod is therefore a strong ground of consolation. This 
attribute is the strongest prop for faith in all our addresses to 
God ; so that we may approach boldly unto His throne for 
gi'ace to help in every time of need. 

STEPHEN CHARNOCK. 



AFFLICTION. 



39 



LEARN OF CHRIST TO BEAR THE CROSS. 

Go to dark Gethsemane, 

Ye that feel the tempter's power ; 

Your Redeemer's conflict see ; 
Watch with Him one bitter hour : 

Turn not from His griefs away 

Learn of Jesus Christ to pray. 

Follow to the judgment hall ; 

View the Lord of life arraigned. 
O the wormwood and the gall ! 

O the pangs His soul sustained ! 
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss ; 
Learn of Him to bear the cross. 

Calvary's mournful mountain climb ; 

There, adoring at His feet, 
Mark that miracle of time, — 

God's own sacrifice complete. 

It is finished," hear Him cry ; 
Learn of Jesus Christ to die. 

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 



Extraordinary afflictions are not always the punishment of 
extraordinary sins, but sometimes the trial of extraordinary 
graces. 

MATTHEW HENRY. 

MURMUR NOT AT GOD'S DISCIPLINE. 

I BELIEVE that one of the causes why men murmur so much 
against God's discipline is because they do not understand it. 
Whenever something comes upon us which is hard to bear, and 
we do not see the meaning of it, the tendency of our hearts is 
to rebel against it ; but, if we understand it, if we see what 
God means, that it is His wisdom and His love which are dealing 
with us, then it is far easier to submit, and to receive it with 



40 



GONE BEFORE. 



resignation. And thus we shall use it rightly ; we shall make 
use of it for our sanctifi cation, and the perfecting of the work of 
God in the soul. Now for these reasons it must be very im- 
portant that the tried Christian should at the very outset of the 
trial pray to the Lord for wisdom to understand, to receive, and 
so to use profitably the discipline under which God has placed 
him. 

REV. EMILIUS BAYLEY, D.D. 



The good man suffers but to gain, 
And every virtue springs from pain ; 
As aromatic plants bestow 
No spicy fragrance while they grow ; 
But, crushed or trodden to the ground, 
Diffuse their balmy sweets around. 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



1 HAT flower which follows the sun doth so even in cloudy 
days : when it doth not shine forth, yet it follows the hidden 
course and motion of it. So the soul that moves after God 
keeps that course when He hides His face ; is content, yea, is 
glad at His will in all estates, or conditions, or events. 

ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 



GOD DOES NOT ALWAYS SMILE. 

The world can neither give nor take. 

Nor can they comprehend 
The peace of God, which Christ has bought— - 

The pea e which knows no end. 
The burning bush was not consumed 

Whilst God remained there ; 
The three, when Jesus made the fourth, 

Found fire as soft as air. 



AFFLICTION. 



41 



God's furnace doth in Zion stand ; 

But Zion's God sits by, 
As the refiner \dews his gold 

^Yith an observant eye. 
His thoughts are high, His love is \Yise, 

His wounds a cure intend ; 
And though He does not always smile, 

He loves iinto the end. 

COUNTESS OF HUXTINGDOX. 



Such afflictions and sorrows as befall God's children are 
blessings unto them ; chastisements are tokens of God's love ; 
*'for as many as I love, I chasten," saith God. Affliction to 
them is like the dove with an olive branch in her mouth, to 
show that all is well. 

ARCHBISHOP USHEPv. 



It is the manner of God to cast down that He may raise ; to 
abase that He may exalt us ; Satan raises up that he may 
throw down, and intends nothing but ou. dejection in our 
advancement. 

BISHOP HALL. 



We to heaven 
Do climb with loads upon our shoulders borne ; 
Nor must we tread on roses, but on thorn. 

JAMES SHIRLEY. 



OUR AFFLICTIONS ARE THE WORK OF GOD. 

Nothing ever happens by chance, or apart from His designs ; 
for " He worketh all things according to the counsel of His 0^,11 
will." " His counsel stands, and He doeth all His pleasure." 
Afflictive dispensations are the result of His appointment and 



42 



GONE BEFORE. 



agency; for though '^man is bom unto trouble as the sparks 
fly upward," yet affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither 
doth trouble spring out of the ground." They "come do\^Ti 
from above ; " they come forth from Him who is wonderful in 
counsel, and excellent in working." And this important prin- 
ciple, that our afflictions are the work of God, will be found to 
involve all that is fitted to quell the tumults and fears of the soul, 
and induce us to acquiesce in all the dispensations of Providence 
with respect to our lot. 

REV. PETER GRANT. 



DO ALL THINGS WITHOUT MURMURING. 

We do not sufficiently try, as we ought to try, for strength in 
trials and cheerfulness in suffering, to do all things without 
murmuring. " If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have 
wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses ? and if 
in the land of peace, wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, 
then how ^^dlt thou do in the swelling of Jordan ? " I have no 
doubt each one of us has that ' ' thorn in the flesh ; " it may 
be a bodily thorn, it may be a spiritual thorn, but this I am quite 
sure of, that if we are true followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
we shall carry one about with, us till we die ; and then, blessed 
be His name, when we get to that land where there shall be no 
more weeping and no more sorrow, that "thorn in the flesh" 
shall be taken away. My dear friends, I do not say that it is 
always the same thorn, that it is always the same cross. We 
have one kind of cross at one time, and another kind of cross at 
another time. Christ changes the cross when He sees we can 
bear a change, and if we can do with a lighter one He gives it 
to us ; but we must be very careful not to change it ourselves ; 
we must take it up and carry it patiently, and we must not wish 
to choose what it shall be, or to take our neighbour's cross 
instead of our own, we should find t/ia^ ten times harder. Oh I 
let us clasp the cross then Avhich God gives to our hearts, and • 
say, " Lord, not my will, but Thine be done." 

REV. A. W. THOROLD, M.A. 



AFFLICTION. 



43 



STARS SHINE BRIGHTEST IN THE DARKEST 
NIGHT. 

The bee sucks sweet honey out of the bitterest herbs ; so God 
will, by aiSictions, teach His children to suck sweet knowledge, 
sweet obedience, sweet experience, &c., out of all the bitter 
afflictions and trials He exercises them with : that scouring and 
rubbing which frets others shall make them shine the brighter ; 
that weight which crushes and keeps others under, shall but 
make them like the palm tree, grow better and higher ; and 
that hammer which knocks others all in pieces shall but knock 
them the nearer to Christ, the corner-stone. Stars shine brightest 
in the darkest night, torches give the best light when beaten, 
grapes yield most \\dne when most pressed, spices smell sweetest 
when pounded, vines are the better for bleeding, gold looks the 
brighter for scouring, and juniper smells sweetest in the fire. 
Afflictions are the saints' best benefactors. \Yhere afflictions 
hang heaviest, corruptions hang loosest. Grace that is hid i'n 
nature, as sweet water in rose leaves, is then most fragrant when 
the fire of affliction is put under to distil it out. Grace shines 
the brighter for scouring, and is most glorious when it is most 
clouded. 

JAMES BROOKS. 



AFFLICTIONS, THE PORTION OF THE BELOVED 
OF GOD. 

A iviAN is not only unknown to others but to himself, that 
hath never met with such difficulties as require faith and Christian 
fortitude, and patience to surmount them. But when somewhat 
sets upon him that is in itself very unpleasant and grievous to 
him, and yet, if he then retain his moderation of spirit, and 
flies not out into impatience either against God or man, this 
gives experiment of the truth and soundness of this grace within 
him. These afflictions are often the portion of those who are the 
beloved of God. 

ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTOX. 



GONE BEFORE. 



GOD DOTH NOT AFFLICT WILLIXGLY. 

O FRIEND of Jesus, if thou art in sickness, in poveiiy, in 
anxiety, in anguish of spirit, He earnestly remembers thee still. 
He doth not afilict willingly, nor grieve the children of men. In 
all thy afflictions He is afflicted mth thee. He will not suffer 
thee to be tempted beyond what thou art able to bear ; and his 
corrections shall speedily cease when their end is gained. 

DR. JOHN ERSKINE. 



*'0 Lord, behold my affliction." — Lamentations i. 9. 

"And the Lord said. Behold I have surely seen the affliction 
of my people ; — for I know their sorrows, and am come down to 
deliver them. — Exodus iii. 7, 8. 

''The afflicted people Thou wilt save." — 2 Samuel xxii. 28. 

*' The Lord ^^ill strengthen him upon the bed of languishing ; 
Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness." — Psalm xli. 3. 

*'My grace is sufficient for thee ; for my strength is made 
perfect in weakness." — 2 Corinthians xii. 9. 

"The God of all grace, who hath called us unto His eternal 
glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered awhile, make 
you perfect, stablish, stre igthen, settle you." — i Peter v. 9. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



THE FIRST BURST MAY BE BITTER AND 
OVERWHELMING. 

A Grecian philosopher bemg asked why he wept for the 
death of his son, since the sorrow was in vain, said, ''I weep 
on that account." And his answer became his wisdom. It is 
only for sophists to contend that we, whose eyes contain the 
fountain of tears, need never give way to them. It would be 
unwise not to do so on some occasions. Sorrow unlocks them 
in her balmy moods. The first burst may be bitter and over- 
whelming, but the soil on which they pour would be worse 
without them. 'They .refresh the fever of the soil — the dry 
misery which parches the countenance into furrows, and renders 
us liable to our most terrible " flesh-quakes." 

There are sorrows, it is true, so great that to give them some 
of the ordinary vents is to run a hazard of being overthrown. 
These we must rather strengthen ourselves to resist, or bow quietly 
and drily down in order to let them pass over us, as the traveller 
does the wind of the desert. But where we feel that our tears 
would relieve us, it is false philosophy to deny ourselves at least 
that first refreshment ; and it is always false consolation to tell 
people that because they cannot help a thing they are not to 
mind it. The true way is, to let them grapple with the unavoid- 
able sorrow, and try to win it into gentleness by a reasonable 
yielding. There are griefs so very gentle in their nature, that 
it would be worse than false heroism to refuse them a tear. Of 
this kind are the deaths of infants. Particular circumstances 
may render it more or less advisable to indulge in grief for the 



46 



GONE BEFORE. 



loss of a little child ; but, in general, parents should be more 
advised to repress their first tears on such an occasion, than to 
repress their smiles towards a child surviving, or to indulge in 
any other sympathy. It is an appeal to the same gentle tender- 
ness : and appeals are never made in vain. The end of them 
is an acquittal from the harsher bonds of affliction — from the 
tymg down of the spirit to one melancholy idea. 

It is the nature of tears of this kind however strongly they 
may gush forth, to run into quiet waters at last. ^Ye cannot 
easily, for the whole course of our lives, think with pain of any 
good or kind person whom we have lost. It is the divine nature 
of their qualities to conquer pain and death itself ; to turn the 
memory of them into pleasure ; to survive with a placid aspect 
in our imaginations. We are writing at this moment just opposite 
a spot which contains the grave of one inexpressibly dear to us. 

We see from our windows the trees about it, and the church 
spire. The green fields lie around. The clouds are travelling 
overhead, alternately taking away the sunshine and restoring it. 
The vernal winds, piping of the flowery summer-time, are never- 
theless calling to mind the far distant and dangerous ocean, 
which the heart that lies in that grave had many reasons to 
think of. And yet the sight of this spot does not give us pain. 
So far from it, it is the existence of that grave which doubles 
every charm of the spot ; which links the pleasures of childhood 
and manhood together ; which puts a hushing tenderness in the 
winds and a patient joy upon the landscape ; which seems to 
unite heaven and earth, mortality and immortality, the grass of 
the tomb and the grass of the green fields; it gives a more ma- 
ternal aspect to the whole kindness of nature. It does not hinder 
gaiety itself. Happiness was what its tenant, through all her 
troubles, would have diffused. To diffuse happiness, and to 
enjoy it, is not only carrying out her wishes, but realizing her 
hopes ; and gaiety, freed from its only pollutions, malignity and 
want of sympathy, is but a child playing about the knees of its 
mother. 

The remembered innocence and endearments of a child stand 
us instead of virtues that have died older. Children have not 
exercised the voluntary offices of friendship ; they have not 
chosen to be kind and good to us ; nor stood by us, from con- 
scious will, in the hour of adversity. But they have shared their 



BEREAVEMENT. 



47 



pleasures and pains with us as well as they could ; the inter- 
change of good offices between us has, of necessity, been less 
mingled with the troubles of the world ; the sorrow arising from 
their death is the only one which we can associate with their 
memories. These are happy thoughts which cannot die. Our 
loss may always render them pensive ; but they will not always 
be painful. It is a part of the benignity of nature that pain does 
not survive like pleasure at any time, much less where the cause 
of it is an innocent one. The smile will remain reflected by 
memory, as the moon reflects the light upon us when the sun has 
gone into the heavens. 

When writers like ourselves quarrel with earthly pain (we 
mean writers of the same intentions, without implying, of course, 
anything about abilities or otherwise), they are misunderstood, 
if they are supposed to quarrel with pains of every sort. This 
would be idle and effeminate. They do not pretend, indeed, 
that humanity might not wish, if it could, to be entirely free 
from pain : for it endeavours, at all times, to turn pain into 
pleasure ; or at least set off the one with the other, or make the 
former a zest and the latter a refreshment. The most unaffected 
dignity of suffering does this, and, if wise, acknowledges it. The 
greatest benevolence towards others, the most unselfish relish of 
their pleasure, even at its own expense, does but look to in- 
creasing the general stock of happiness, though content, if it 
could, to have its identity swallowed up in that splendid con- 
templation. We are far from meaning that this is to be called 
selfishness. We are far, indeed, from thinking so, or so con- 
founding words. But neither is it to be called pain when most 
unselfish, if disinterestedness be truly understood. The pain 
that is in it softens into pleasure, as the darker hue of the rainbow 
melts into the brighter. 

Yet even if a harsher line is to be drawn between the pain and 
pleasure of the most unselfish mind (and ill-health, for instance, 
may draw it), we should not quarrel with it if it contributed to 
the general mass of comfort, and were of a nature which general 
kindness could not avoid. Made as we are, there are certain 
pains without which it would be difficult to conceive certain 
great and overbalancing pleasures. We may conceive it possible 
for beings to be made entirely happy ; but in our composition 
something of pain seems to be a necessary ing'-edient, in order 



48 



GONE BEFORE. 



that the materials may turn to as fine account as possible, though 
our clay, in the course of ages and experience, may be refined 
more and more. We may get rid of the worst earth, though not 
of earth itself. 

Now the liability to the loss of children — or rather, what makes 
us sensible of it, the occasional loss itself — seems to be one of 
these necessaiy bitters thro\^'n into the cup of humanity. We 
do not mean that every one must lose one of his children in 
order to enjoy the rest, or that every individual loss afilicts us 
in the same proportion. We allude to the deaths of infants in 
general. These might be as few as we could render them. But 
if none at all ever took place, we should regard every little child 
as a man or woman secured ; and it will easily be conceived what 
a world of endearing care and hopes this security would endanger. 
The very idea of infancy would lose its continuity ^^ith us. Girls 
and boys would be future men and women, not present children. 
They would have attained their full growth in our imaginations, 
and might as well have beer men and women at once. On the 
other hand, those who have lost an infant are never, as it were, 
without an infant child. They are the only persons who, in one 
sense, retain it always, and they furnish their neighbours with 
the same idea. The other children grow up to manhood and 
womanhood, and suffer all the changes of mortality. This one 
alone is rendered an immortal child. Death has arrested it with 
his kindly harshness, and blessed it into an eternal image of 
youth and innocence. Of such as these are the pleasantest shapes 
that visit our fancy and hopes. They are the ever-smiling em- 
blems of joy; the prettiest pages that wait upon imagination. 
Lastly, " of these are the kingdom of heaven." Wherever there 
is a province of that benevolent and all- accessible empire, whether 
on earth or elsewhere, such are the gentle spirits that must inhabit 
it. To such simplicity, or the resemblance of it, must they come. 
wSuch must be the ready confidence of their hearts, and creative- 
ness of their fancy. And so ignorant must they be of the ' ' know- 
ledge of good and evil," losing their discernment of that self- 
created trouble by enjopng the garden before them, and not 
being ashamed of w^hat is kindly and innocent. 



LEIGH HUNT. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



49 



VICTORY BEFORE THE CONFLICT. 

Why should you lament that your little ones are crowned with 
victory before the sword is dra\^Ti, or the conflict begun? Con- 
sider this, ye mourning parents, and dry up your tears. Perhaps 
the Supreme Disposer of events foresaw some inevitable snare of 
temptation forming, or some dreadful storm of adversity im- 
pending. And why should you be so dissatisfied with that kind 
precaution which housed your pleasant plant, and removed into 
shelter a tender flower, before the thunders roared, before the 
lightnings flew, before the tempest poured its rage? Oh, re- 
member! they are not lost, but "taken away from the evil to 
come," 

REV. JAMES HERVEY. 



GLAD HOPE! TO BE REUNITED TO OUR CHILD. 

Little ones who have died, may be used of the Spirit to exer- 
cise an influence more mysterious than the lodestone, drawing 
us by a power, silent and invisible, but true. Oh glad hope ! to 
be reunited to our child — to be in the same place with it again. 
O blessed land ! bright with the presence of our Saviour, bright 
with the presence of our child, — He, the Great Light to rule the 
heart's eternal day; it, a lesser light, bright in the glory which 
streams magnificently from Him. 

REV. PHILIP BENNETT POWER, M.A. 



RACHEL WEEPING FOR HER CHILDREN." 

JER. XXXI. 15. 

In these fair and meek 
And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought, 
They see what grief must nurture for the sky, 
What death must fashion for eternity ! 

MRS. HEMAN5. 

E 



50 



GONE BEFORE. 



That little urn saith more than thousand homilies." 

LORD BYRON. 



*' Jesus said, * Suffer the little children to come unto I\Ie, 
and forbid them not : for of such is the kingdom of heaven.'" 

MATT. xix. 14. 



ONE WHOSE HOME IS WITH THE ANGELS. 

She was my idol ! Night and day to scan 
The fine expansion of her form, and mark 
The unfolding mind, like vernal rose-bud start 
To sudden beauty, was my chief delight. 
To find her fairy footsteps following mine- 
Her hand upon my garments, or her lip 
Long sealed to mine, and in the watch of night 
The quiet breath of innocence to feel 
Soft on my cheek, was such a full content 
Of happiness, as none but mothers know. 

Her voice was like some tiny harp that yields 
To the slight- fingered breeze, and as it held 
Brief converse with her doll, or playfiil soothed 
The moaning kitten, or with patient care 
Conned o'er the alphabet ; but most of all 
Its tender cadence in her evening prayer 
Thrilled on the ear like some ethereal tone 
Heard in sweet dreams. 

But now alone I sit 
Musing of her, and dew with moumfiil tears 
Her little robes, that once with woman's pride 
I wrought, as if there were a need to deck 
What God had made so beautiful. 

I start, 

Half fancying from her empty crib there comes 

A restless sound, and breathe th' accustomed words, 

Hush ! hush thee, dearest ! Then I bend and weep, 
As though it were a sin to speak to one 
Whose home is with the angels. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



51 



Gone to God ! 
And yet I wish I had not seen the pang 
That wrung her features, nor the ghastly white 
Setthng around her lips. I would that Heaven 
Had taken its own, like some transplanted flower 
Blooming in all its freshness. 

Gone to God ! 
Be still, my heart ! what could a mother's prayer, 
In all the wildest ecstasies of hope, 
Ask for its darling like the bliss of heaven ? 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



GONE UP THE PATHWAY TO THE SKY. 

And this is death ! how cold and still, 

And yet how lovely it appears ! 
Too cold to let the gazer smile. 

But far too beautiful for tears. 
The sparkling eye no more is bright, 

The cheek hath lost its rose-like red ; 
And yet it is with strange delight 

I stand and gaze upon the dead. 

But when I see the fair wide brow 

Half shaded by the silken hair, 
That never looked so fair as now 

When life and health were laughing there, 
I wonder not that grief should swell 

So wildly upward in the breast, 
I And that strong passion once rebel 

That need not, cannot be suppressed. 

I wonder not that parents' eyes, 

In gazing thus, grow cold and dim, 
That burning tears and aching sighs 

Are blended with the funeral hymn ; 
The spirit hath an earthly part. 

That weeps when earthly pleasure flies, 
And heaven would scorn the frozen heart, 

That melts not when the infant dies. 

1 



52 



GONE BEFORE. 



And yet why mourn ? that deep repose 

Shall never more be broke by pain ; 
Those lips no more in sighs unclose, 

Those eyes shall never weep again. 
For think not that the blushing flower 

Shall wither in the churchyard sod ; 
Twas made to gild an angal's bower 

Within the paradise of God. 

Once more I gaze — and swift and far 

The clouds of death in sorrow fly ; 
I see thee, like a new-bom star. 

Move up thy pathway in the sky. 
The star hath rays serene and bright. 

But cold and pale compared with thine j 
For thy orb shines with heavenly light, 

With beams unfailing and divine. 

Then let the burthened heart be free, 

The tears of sorrow all be shed, 
And parents calmly bend to see 

The mournful beauty of the dead ; 
Thrice happy that their infant bears 

To heaven no darkening stains of sin^ 
And only breathed life's morning airs 

Before its evening storms begin. 

Farewell ! I shall not soon forget ; 

Although thy heart hath ceased to beat.. 
My memory warmly treasures yet 

Thy features calm and mildly sweet ; 
But no, that look is not the last, 

We yet may meet where seraphs dwell, 
Where love no more deplores the past, 

Nor breathes that withering word — farewell. 

PEABODY. 



I PART with thee for a few days, that I may receive thee for 
ever, and find thee what thou art. It is for no language but 
that of heaven to describe the sacred joy which such a meeting 
must occasion ! DR. Doddridge. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



53 



MEETING IN HEAVEN. 

If in yon immortal clime, 

Where flows no parting tear, 
That root of earthly love may grow. 

Which struck so deeply here ; 
With w^hat a tide of boundless bliss, 

A thrill of rapture wild. 
An angel mother in the skies. 

Will greet her cherub child ! 

MRS. SIGOURNEY, 



I KNOW THE ANGELS FOLD HIM CLOSE 
BENEATH THEIR GLITTERING WINGS. 

I HAVE a son, a third sweet son ; his age I cannot tell, 
For they reckon not by years and months, where he has gone to 
dwell. 

To us, for fourteen anxious months, his infant smiles were given ; 
And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to live in heaven. 

I cannot tell what form is his, what looks he weareth now. 
Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow. 
The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss which he doth 
feel, 

Are numbered with the secret things which God will not reveal. 

But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest. 
Where other blessed infants be, on their Saviour's loving breast. 
I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh. 
But his sleep is blest with endless dreams of joy for ever 
fresh. 

I know the angels fold him close beneath their glittering wings, 
And soothe him with a song that breathes of heaven's divinest 
things. 

I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I) 
Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye. 

REV. JOHN MOULTRIE. 



54 



GONE BEFORE. 



OUR BUD HAS BLOOMED IN PARADISE. 

Have we not knelt beside his bed, 

And watched our first bom blossom die ? 
Hoped, till the shade of hope had fled, 

Then wept till feelingf s fount was dry ? 
Was it not sweet in that dark hour 

To think — 'mid mutual tears and sighs — 
Our bud had left its earthly bower. 

And burst to bloom in paradise ? 

ALARIC A. WATTS. 



YOU SCARCE COULD THINK SO SMALL A THING 
COULD LEAVE A LOSS SO LARGE. 
All in our marriage garden 

Grew, smiling up to God, 
A bonnier flower than ever 

Suckt the green warmth o' the sod. 
Oh beautiful unfathomably 

Its little life unfurled ! 
Love's cro\^Tiing sweetness was our wee 

^Yhite Rose of all the world. 

From out a balmy bosom 

Our bud of beauty grew ; 
It fed on smiles for sunshine, 

And tears for daintier dew. 
Ay, nestling warm and tenderly, 

Our leaves of love were curled 
So close and close about our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 

Two flowers of glorious crimson 

Grew with our Rose of light ; 
Still kept the sweet heaven-grafted slip 

Her whiteness saintly white. 
I' the wind of life they danced with glee, 

And reddened as it whirled ; 
More white and wondrous grew our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



With mystical faint fragrance 

Our house of life she filled — 
Revealed each hour some fairy tower, 

Where winged hopes might build. 
We saw — though none like us might see — 

Such precious promise pearled 
Upon the petals of our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 
But evermore the halo 

Of angel light increased, 
Like the mystery of moonlight, 

That folds some fancy feast. 
Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently 

Our darling bud upcurled. 
And dropt i' the grave — God's lap —our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 
Our rose was but in blossom. 

Our life was but in spring, 
When down the solemn midnight 

We heard the spirits sing : 
** Another bud of infancy. 

With holy dews impearled ; " 
And in their hands they bore our wee 

White Rose of all the world. 
You scarce could think so small a thing 

Could leave a loss so large ; 
Her little light such shadow fling 

From dawn to sunset's marge. 
In other springs our life may be 

In bannered bloom unfurled ; 
But never, never match our wee 

W^hite Rose of all the world. 

GERALD MASSEY. 

Thou art gone, sweet, gentle child ! 
To a clime calm, celestial, mild ; 
A bud transplanted from earth's sod, 
A cherub from love's blest abode, 
Called to the bosom of thy God. 

WILLIAM E. HINTON. 



56 



GONE BEFORE. 



WE HOPE TO REACH THE HEAVEN THAT 
HOLDS THEE. 

Thy room is here, sweet babe ! We enter it — 
The room, but oh the child ! Thy httle bed 
Is white in moonhght oh for the beauteous form ! 
Thy toys are trembhng in our palms— but oh 
The tiny, dimpled hands that fingered them ! 
The stairs are here ; — but oh the little feet ! 
Gone ! Gone for ever ! Yet we hope to reach 
The heaven that holds thee, and with humble hearts 
Thank God for thee, O child. We know that thou 
Art seeing now, and not as in a dream, 
The things we long for, and shall never see 
Until we join thee in the after- world : — 
Thee, little child ! who camest and art gone, 
Who wert our child, and art our child no more, 
Being familiar with the floor of heaven, 
And dwelling nigh unto the throne of God. 

J. STANYAN BIGG. 



THE SIGHT OF BABY^S SHOES. 

Oh those shoes, those little blue shoes ! 

Those shoes that no httle feet use ! 
Oh the price were high 
That those shoes would buy, 

Those little blue, unused shoes ! 

For they hold the small shape of feet 
That no more their mother's eyes meet — 

That, by God^s good will, 

Years since grew still. 
And ceased from their totter so sweet. 

And oh, since that baby slept, 

So hushed, how the mother has kept, 

With a tearful pleasure, 

That little dear treasure. 
And o'er them thought and wept ! 



BEREAVEMENT. 



67 



For they mind her for evermore 
Of a patter along the floor ; 

And blue eyes she sees 

Look up from her knees 
With the look that in life they wore. 

As they lie before her there, 
There babbles from chair to chair 

A little sweet face 

That's a gleam in the place, 
With its little gold curls of hair. 

Then oh, wonder not that her heart 
From all else would rather part 

Than those tiny blue shoes, 

That no little feet use, 
And whose sight makes such fond tears start ! 

W. C. BENNETT. 



REJOICE, THOU HAST AN ANGEL BABE IN 
HEAVEN. 

With roses crown his baby head ; • 
Close with a kiss his tender eyes ; 
Strew lilies o'er his cradle bed. 
For he shall w^ake in paradise." 

What music fills the silent room ? 

O list ! the guardian angel sings ; 
** Our spirit-rose bud springs to bloom. 

Our spirit-bird unfolds its wings." 

O mother ! look with inward eyes ; 

Dear heart ! at once bereaved and blest. 
Behold the infant cherub rise ; 

He smiles upon an angel's breast. 

Rejoice amid thy sorrow's tears ; 

Rejoice, for unto thee 'twas given 
To swell the music of the spheres, 

To bear an angel babe for heaven. 

THOS. L. HARRIS. 

I 



GONE BEFORE. 



RESIGN HIM TO HIS MAKER'S HAND. 

Oh ! grieve not that thy dying babe 

Forsakes this cruel earth ; 
Far better is his day of death 

Than was his day of birth. 
Sure as the fire-spark upward flies 

Is woe the lot of man ; 
And let thine own experience tell 

What were his lengthened span. 

Resign him to his Maker's hand, 

And bless that parting moan ; 
The blood that stained the cross will be 

His passport to the throne. 
His little trembling soul will rise 

To seek his Saviour's breast ; 
And there the wicked trouble not, 

The weary are at rest. 

CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. 



IT LIVES, FOR JESUS DIED. 

Bold infidelity, turn pale and die ; 
Beneath this stone an infant's ashes lie ; 

Say, is it lost or saved ? 
If death's by sin, it sinned ; for it lies here ; — 
If heaven's by works, in heaven it can't appear 

Reason, ah ! how depraved ! 
Revere the Bible's sacred page, — the knot's untied ! 
It died, for Adam sinned ; — it lives, for Jesus died ! 

ROBT. ROBINSON. 

Sweet com of wheat, committed to the ground, 
To die, and live, and bear more precious ear ; 

While in the heart of earth thy Saviour found 
His place of rest — for thee we will not fear. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



59 



TO DIE, FOR THEM, WAS GAIN. 

O FRAIL as sweet ! twin buds, too rath to bear 

The \\inter's unkind air ; 

O gifts beyond all price, no sooner given 

Than straight required by heaven ; 

Matched jewels, vainly for a moment lent 

To deck my brow, or sent 

Untainted from the earth, as Christ's, to soar, 

And add two spirits more 

To that dread band seraphic, that doth lie 

Beneath the Almighty's eye ; — 

Glorious the thought — yet, ah ! my babes, ah, still, 

A father's heart ye fill ; 

Though cold ye lie in earth — tho' gentle death 

Hath sucked your balmy breath, 

And the last kiss which your fair cheeks I gave 

Is buried in your grave. 

No tears ! no tears ! — I wish them not again, 

To die, for them, was gain, 

Ere doubt, or fear, or woe, or act of sin 

Had marred God's light within. 

S. T. COLERIDGE. 



THIS LIFE, WHICH I HAVE DARED INVOKE, 
HENCEFORTH IS PARALLEL WITH THINE. 

Ere last year's moon had left the sky, 

A birdling sought my Indian nest, 
And folded, oh so lovingly ! 

Her tiny wings upon my breast. 
From mom till evening's purple tinge 

In winsome helplessness she lies ; 
Two rose leaves with a silken fringe 

Shut softly on her starry eyes. 
There's not in Ind a lovelier bird ; 

Broad earth owtls not a happier nest ; 
O God, Thou hast a fountain stirred, 

Whose waters never more shall rest I 



60 



GONE BEFORE. 



This beautiful, mysterious thing, 

This seeming visitant from heaven. 
This bird with an immortal wing, 

To me, to me. Thy hand has given. 

The pulse first caught its tiny stroke, 
The blood its crimson hue from mine ; 

This life, which I have dared invoke, 
Henceforth is parallel with Thine I 

A silent awe is in my room — 

I tremble with delicious fear ; 
The future with its light and gloom, 

Time and eternity are here. 

Doubts — hopes — in eager tumult rise ; 

Hear, O my God, one earnest prayer, 
Room for my bird in paradise. 

And give her angel plumage there. 

MRS. EMILY JUDSON. 



I'M JOYOUS, YET I'M SORROWFUL, 

Pm joyous, yet I'm sorrowful ; I think upon the past ; 
Of one thing bright and beautiful — too beautiful to last. 
Of one sweet cherub sent to me, that came and went again 
Ere I could love and cherish it, — ah ! earthly hopes are vain. 

Yes, I had hoped 'twould live and be a fond, endearing child, 
Returning all my love for love, so genial — so mild. 
Perchance it was too innocent to live on earth with me, 
Its spirit sought for purer realms, while from earth's guilt 'twas 
free. 

It is a silly dream, I know, but ofttimes I have thought 
That children seem to cling to me (I know not why they ought); 
They seem to have a sympathy for that dear child that's gone 2 
Oh ! while their love is precious, my heart is not so lone. 

When my sweet little child lay dead, one happy thought arose, 
A solace and a comfort 'twas to all my earthly woes ; 
I thought that I would try to lead a pure and godly life, 
And try to wean myself from all world-vanity, and strife. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



61 



I thought if thus I lived on earth, to me it would be given 
To meet that angel cherub in its glorious place in heaven ; 
To hear it call me mother" once, oh! 'twould indeed be blks; 
And now I live for other worlds with comfort left in this. 

MRS. J, H. JEWELL. 



AN ANGEL FELL IN LOVE WI' HER, AN' TOOK 
HER FRAE US A'. 

She's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, 

She's gane to dwall in heaven : 
Ye're owre pure, quo' the voice o' God, 

For dwalling out o' heaven. 

Oh, what '11 she do in heaven, my lassie ? 

Oh, what '11 she do in heaven ? 
She'll mix her ain thoughts wi' angels' sangs, 

An' make them mair meet for heaven. 

She was beloved by a', my lassie, 

She was beloved by a' ; 
But an angel fell in love wi' her, 

An' took her frae us a'. 

Low there thou lies, my lassie, 

Low there thou lies ; 
A bonnier form ne'er went to the yird, 

Nor frae it will arise ! 

Fu' soon I'll follow thee, my lassie, 

Fu' soon I'll follow thee ; 
Thou left me nought to covet ahin', 

But took gudeness' sel' wi' thee. 

I looked on thy death- cold face, my lassie, 

I looked on thy death-cold face ; 
Thou seemed a lily new cut in the bud, 

And fading in its place. 

I looked on thy death-shut eye, my lassie, 

I looked on thy deathshut eye ; 
An' a lovelier light on the brow of heaven 

Fell time shall ne'er destroy. 



62 



GONE BEFORE. 



Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my lassie. 

Thy lips were ruddy and calm ; 
But gane was the holy breath o' heaven 

To sing the evening psalm. 

There's nought but dust now mine, lassie, 

There's nought but dust now mine ; 
My Saul's wi' thee i' the cauld grave, 

An' why should I stay behin' I 

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 



AXGEL, SEEK THY PLACE AMID YON CHERUB 
THRONG. 

Go to thy rest, my child ; 

Go to thy dreamless bed ; 
Gentle, and meek, and mild, 

With blessings on thy head : 
Fresh roses in thy hand, 

Buds on thy pillow laid, 
Haste from this fearful land, 

\Vhere flowers so quickly fade. 

Before thy heart might learn 

In waywardness to stray ; 
Before thy feet could turn 

The dark and downward way ; 
Ere sin might wound thy breast. 

Or sorrow wake the tear, 
Rise to thy home of rest 

In yon celestial sphere. 

Because thy smile was fair, 

Thy lips and eyes so bright, 
Because thy cradle-care 

Was such a fond delight — 
Shall love, with, weak embrace, 

Thy heavenward flight detain? 
No, angel ! seek thy place 

Amid yon cherub train. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



63 



THE ANGELIC LEGION GREETED ITS BIRTH 
ABOVE. 

A HOST of angels flying, 

Through cloudless skies impelled ; 

Upon the earth beheld 
A pearl of beauty lying, 

Worthy to glitter bright 

In heaven's vast hall of light. 
They saw, with glances tender, 

An infant newly born. 

O'er whom life's earliest mom 
Just cast its opening splendour ; 

Virtue it could not know, 

Nor vice, nor joy, nor woe. 
The blest angelic legion 

Greeted its birth above, 

And came, with looks of love. 
From heaven's enchanting region ; 

Bending their winged way 

To where the infant lay. 
They spread their pinions o'er it, 

That little pearl which shone 

With lustre all its own ; 
And then on high they bore it, 

Where glory has its birth — 

But left the shell on earth. 
Dirk Smithy translated by h. s. von dyk ; 1702 — 1752. 



HE SEEMED A CHERUB WHO HAD LOST 
HIS WAY. 

How peacefully they rest, 
Cross-folded there 
Upon his little breast, 

Those small white hands, that ne'er were still before, 
But ever sported \\dth his mother's hair. 
Or the plain cross that on her breast she wore \ 
Pier heart no more will beat 



64 



GONE BEFORE. 



To feel the touch of that soft palm, 

That ever seemed a new surprise, 

Sending glad thoughts up to her eyes 

To bless him with their holy calm — 

Sweet thoughts ! they made her eyes as sweet. 

How quiet are the hands 

That wove those pleasant bands ! 
But that they do not rise and sink 
With his calm breathing, I should think 
That he were dropped asleep : 
Alas ! too deep, too deep ! 

Is this his slumber; 

Time scarce can number 
The years ere he will wake again — 
O may we see his eyelids open then I 
O stem word — nevermore ! 

* * ^ * 

He did but float a little way 
Adown the stream of time 
^Yith dreamy eyes watching the ripples' play, 

Or listening to their fairy chime. 
His slender sail 
Ne'er felt the gale ; 
He did but float a little way, 
And putting to the shore, 
While yet 'twas early day, 
"Went calmly on his ^^'ay, 
To dwell with us no more ! 

* * * 

Full short his journey was; no dust 

Of earth unto his sandals clave, 

The weary weight that old men must, 

He bore not to the grave. 
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way, 
And wandered hither ; so his stay 
With us was short, and 'twas most meet 
That he should be no delver in earth's clod, 
Is or need to pause and cleanse his feet 
To stand before his God: 

O blest word— evermore ! J. R. lowell. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



65 



'TWILL BE A FLOWER IN HEAVEN. 

"What shall I render Thee, Father supreme. 
For Thy rich gifts, and this, the best of all?" 
Said a young mother, as she fondly watched 
Her sleeping babe. 

There was an answering voice 
That night in dreams. 

Thou hast a little bud 
Wrapt in thy breast, and fed with dews of love ; 
Give Me that bud. 'Twill be a flower in heaven." 
But there was silence; yea, a hush so deep. 
Breathless, and terror-stricken, that the lip 
Blanched in its trance. 

* ' Thou hast a little harp : 
How sweetly would it swell the angels' song. 
Give Me that harp !" 

There burst a shuddering sob. 
As if the bosom, by some hidden sword, 
Was cleft in twain. 

INIorn came : a blight had found 
The crimson velvet of the unfolding bud ; 
The harp-strings ran a thrilling strain, and broke; 
And that young mother lay upon the earth 
In childless agony. 

Again the voice 
That stirred her vision : 

" He who asked of thee 
Loveth a cheerful giver." 

So she raised 
Her gushing eye, and, ere the teardrop dried 
Upon its fringes, smiled. 

Doubt not that smile, 
Like Abraham's faith, was counted righteousness. 



MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



GONE BEFORE. 



BELOVED, YOUR BABE IS SLEEPING- 

Another baby dead ! 

Pale Azriel's white -winged token 
Rests in its curl-cro\^T.ied brow, 

A mother's heart is broken. 

All that is left us now 

Is waxen form, snow-drifted, 
Hands folded on its breast, 

A soul to heaven uplifted ! 
Place flowers white upon it, 

Where a heart thrilled in its beating- 
White flowers, fitting emblems 

Of a life so pure and fleeting. 
Another baby dead ! 

Fond mother, cease your weeping ; 
For the Comforter hath said. 

Beloved, your dead is sleeping. 

CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. 



THOU'RT SAFE IN HEAVEN, MY LOVE. 

Sleep, little baby, sleep ! 

Not in thy cradle bed, 
Not on thy mother's breast 
Henceforth shall be thy rest. 

But with the quiet dead. 

Yes, ^vith the quiet dead, 

Baby, thy rest shall be ! 
Oh ! many a weary wight, 
Weary of life and light. 

Would fain lie do\vn with thee. 

Flee, little tender nursling ! 

Flee to thy gi-assy nest ; 
There the first flowers shall blow, 
Tiie first pure flake of snow 

Shall fall upon thy breast. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Peace ! peace ! the little bosom 
Labours with shortening breath : 

Peace ! peace ! that tremulous sigh . 

Speaks his departure nigh ! 
Those are the damps of death. 

I've seen thee in thy beauty, 
A thing all health and glee ; 

But never then wert thou 

So beautiful as now, 

Baby, thou seem'st to me. 

Thine upturned eyes glazed over. 
Like harebells wet with dew ; 

Already veiled and hid 

By the convulsed lid, 

Their pupils darkly blue. 

Thy little mouth half open— 

Thy soft lip quivering. 
As if like summer air, 
Ruffling the rose-leaves, there 

Thy soul was fluttering. 

Mount up, immortal essence ! 

Young spirit, haste, depart! 
And is this death? — dread thing! 
If such thy visiting. 

How beautiful thou art ! 

Oh ! I could gaze for ever 

Upon thy waxen face ; 
So passionless, so pure ! 
The little shrine was sure 

An angel's dwelling-place. 

Thou weepest, childless mother ! 

Ay, weep — 'twill ease thine heart ;- 
He was thy firstborn son, 
Thy first, thine only one, 

'Tis hard from him to part. 



GONE BEFORE. 



'Tis hard to lay thy darling 
Deep in the damp cold earth, 
His empty crib to see, 

His silent nursery, 

Once gladsome with his mirth. 

To meet again in slumber 

His small mouth's rosy kiss ; 
Then, wakened with a start 
By thine own throbbing heart. 
His twining arms to miss ! 

To feel (half conscious why) 
A dull, heart-sinking weight, 

Till memoiy on the soul, 

Flashes the painful whole, 
That thou art desolate ! 

And then to lie and weep, 
And think the livelong night 

(Feeding thine o^^tl distress 

With accurate greediness) 
Of eveiy past delight ; 

Of all his winning ways. 

His pretty playful smiles. 
His joy at sight of thee. 
His tricks, his mimicr}% 

And all his little wiles ! 

Oh ! these are recollections 

Round mothers' hearts that cling, — 
That mingle ^yiih the tears 
And smiles of after years, 

With oft awakening. 

But thou wilt then, fond mother, 

In after years look back 
(Time brings such wondrous easing). 
With sadness not unpleasing. 

E'en on this gloomy track. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Thou'lt say, My firstborn blessing, 

It almost broke my heart, 
When thou wert forced to go ! : 
And yet for thee I know 

'Twas better to depart. 
God took thee in His mercy, 

A lamb, mitasT^ed, untried, 
He fought the fight for thee, 
He won the victory, 

And thou art sanctified. 
I look around and see 

The evil ways of men ; 
And oh ! beloved child, 
I'm more than reconciled 

To thy departure then. 

^ The little arms that clasped me. 
The innocent lips that pressed — 

Would they have been as pure 

Till now as when of yore 
I luU'd thee on my breast? 

* Now like a dewdrop shrined 
Within a crystal stone, 
Thou'rt safe in heaven, my dove, 
Safe with the Source of love, 
The everlasting One ! 

' And when the hour arrives, 
From flesh that sets me free, 
Thy spirit may await, 
The first at heaven's gate. 
To meet and welcome me.'' 

MRS. SOUTHEY, 



A LOVELY bud, so soft and fair, 

Called hence by early doom, 
Just sent to show how sweet a flower 

In paradise would bloom. 

S. T. COLERIDGE, 



GONE BEFORE. 



HOPES AND JOYS ARE WITH HIM GONE. 

We cannot choose but weep ; 
He was our dearly loved, our only care ; 
And brightest hopes and joys are with him gone 

Within the grave to sleep. 

We hoped to hear his voice, 
In accents sweet, lisping his mother's name ; 
We thought when summer flowers in beauty came, 

He'd pluck them and rejoice. 

We hoped he would have knelt 
With us, to ask a blessing on our home — 
That discord might not ever near us come, 

Nor woe be ever felt. 

We thought he w^ould have trod 
With us the fields where we delight to rove ; 
And we had planned to guide his steps to love 

Nature, and nature's God. 

We hoped he would have proved, 
For many years, our help and joy and pride; 
Then taking to himself a happy bride, 

Love, e'en as we have loved. 

Yet let us cease our sighs ; 
For he has passed from darkness into light, 
And is united with the Infinite, 

The Eternal and All-wise. 

SYDNEY GILES. 



NOW HE DWELLS WITH THEE IN LIGHT. 

Gentle Shepherd, Thou hast stilled 
Now Thy little lamb's long weeping ; 

Ah, how peaceful, pale, and mild. 
In its narrow^ bed 'tis sleeping ! 

And no sigh of anguish sore 

Heaves that little bosom more. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



71 



In this world of care and pain, 

Lord, Thou wouldst no longer leave it ; 

To the sunny heavenly plain 

Dost Thou now with joy receive it. 

Clothed in robes of spotless white, 

Now it dwells with Thee in light. 

Ah, Lord Jesus, grant that we 

Where it lives may soon be living, 
And the lovely pastures see 

That its heavenly food are giving. 
Then the gain of death we prove. 
Though Thou take what most we love. 

. r MEINHOLD. 



MY CHILD, THOU ART GONE TO THE HOME OF 
THY REST. 

O SWEET be thy sleep in the land of the grave, 

My dear little angel for ever ! 
For ever ? Oh no ! let not man be a slave. 

His hopes from existence to sever. 

Though cold be the clay where thou pillow'st thy head. 

In the dark silent mansions of sorrow. 
The spring shall return to thy low narrow bed, 

Like the beam of the day-star to-morrow. 

The flower- stem shall bloom like thy sweet seraph form, 
Ere the Spoiler had nipped thee in blossom ; 

When thou shrunk from the scowl of the loud winter storm. 
And nestled thee close to that bosom. 

Oh ! still I behold thee, all lovely in death 

Reclined on the lap of thy mother. 
When the tear trickled bright, when the short stifled breath, 

Tell how dear ye were aye -to each other. 



72 



GONE BEFORE. 



My child, thou art gone to the home of thy rest, 

Where sufferings no longer can harm ye, 
Where the songs of the good, where the hymns of the blest, 

Through an endless existence shall charm thee. 

ROBERT BURNS. 



MOTHER, BEHOLD THE CHILD AN ANGEL NOW. 

With what unknown delight the mother smiled 
When this frail treasure in her arms she pressed ! 

Her prayer was heard — she clasped a living child ; 
But how the gift transcends the poor request ! 

A child was all she asked, with many a vow ; 

Mother, behold the child an angel now ! 

Now in her Father's house she finds a place ; 

Or if to earth she takes a transient flight, 
'Tis to fulfil the purpose of His grace. 

To guide thy footsteps to the world of light ; 
A ministering spirit sent to thee. 
That where she is there thou may'st also be. 

JANE TAYLOR. 



SMILING, THOUGH DEAD. 

Death found strange beauty on that polished brow. 
And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose 
On cheek and lip ; — he touched the veins with ice. 
And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes 
There spake a wishful tenderness, — a doubt 
Whether to grieve or sleep, which innocence 
Alone may wear. With ruthless haste he bound 
The silken fringes of those curtaining lids 
For ever. There had been a murmuring sound. 
With which the babe would claim its mother's ear. 
Charming her even to tears. The Spoiler set 



BEREAVEMENT. 



73 



His seal of silence. But there beamed a smile 
So fixed, so holy from that cherub brow, — 
Death gazed — and left it there ; — he dared not steal 
The signet-ring of heaven. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



UP IN HEAVEN, WITH THINGS MORE BRIGHT, 
HIS SOUL WAS FAR AWAY. 

In dark recess, hard by the spot 

Whence mother's prayer arises night and day, 
Sheltered within his tiny cot 

A lovely infant sleeping lay. 
His eyelids, tinged with rosy light, 
Were closed — for all of earthly sight ; 
But up in heaven, with things more bright, 
His soul was far away ; a radiant light ! 

VICTOR HUGO. 



O SLEEP, sweet infant, for we all must sleep. 
And wake like babes, that we may wake with Him 
Who watches still His own from harm to keep, 
And o'er them spreads the wings of cherubim. 

S. T. COLERIDGE. 



LIKE MORNING FAIR, AND SOONER FLOWN 
Hither come, at close of day. 
And o'er this dust, sweet mother, pray ! 
A little infant lies within. 
Who never knew the name of sin. 
Beloved, bright, and all our own ; 
Like morning fair, and sooner flown ! 

No leaves or garlands wither here, 

Like those in foreign lands ; 
No marble hides our dear one's bier, 

The work of alien hands; 



GONE BEFORE. 



The months it lived, the name it bore 
Tlie silver telleth, —nothing more I 

Xo more ; — yet Silence stalketh round 

This vault so dim and deep ; 
And Death keeps watch without a sound, 

Where all lie pale and sleep ; 
But palest here and latest hid. 
Is he— beneath this cofiin lid. 

How fair he was — how ver}* fair 

AMiat dreams we pondered o'er, 
Zvlaking his life so long and clear, 

His fortunes flowing o'er I 
Our hopes (that he would happy be 

AMien we ourselves were old), 
The scenes we saw, or hoped to see — 

They're soon and sadly told. 

All was a dream I — it came and fled ; 
And left us here, — among the dead I 
Pray, mothers, pray, at close of day, 
\Miile we, sad parents, weep alway I 
Pray, too (and softly bet and long), 
That all your babes, now fair and strong, 
May blossom like — not like the rose, 
For that doth fade when summer goes 
(■'Twas thus our pretty infant died. 
The summer and its mother's pride), 
But, like some stem enduring tree. 
That reacheth its green centur}', 
May grow, may flourish — then decay, 
After a long, calm, happy day, 
Made happier by good deeds to men, 
And hopes in heaven to meet again. 

Pray I — From the happy prayer is due; 
^^'hile we ('tis all we now can do I) 
^Yill check our tears, and pray with you. 

BARRY CORNWALL. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



75 



THAT SILVERY VOICE IS BLENDED WITH THE 
MINSTRELSY ON HIGH. 

Another little form asleep, 

And a little spirit gone, 
Another little voice is hushed, 

And a little angel born ; 
Two little feet have gone the way 

To the home beyond the skies ; 
And our hearts are like the void that comes 

When a strain of music dies. 

A pair of little baby shoes. 

And a lock of golden hair, 
The toy our little darling loved, 

And the dress she used to wear ; 
The little grave in the shady nook 

Where the flowers love to grow, — 
And these are all of the little hope 

That came three years ago. 

The birds that sit on the branch above. 

And sing a requiem 
To the beautiful little sleeping form 

That used to sing to them. 
But never again will the little lips 

To their songs of love reply ; 
For that silvery voice is blended with 

The minstrelsy on high. 

W. C. BENNETT. 

SHE BLOOMS A ROSE IN HEAVEN. 

Here lies a rose — a budding rose, 

Blasted before its bloom ; 
Whose innocence did sweets disclose 

Beyond that flower's perfume. 

To those who for her loss are grieved 

This consolation's given, — 
She's from a world of woe received, 

And blooms a rose in heaven. 

ROBERT BURNS. 



76 



GONE BEFORE. 



HE SPREADS A SERAPH-"S PIXIOX, AND WARELES 
LAYS OE LOVE. 

He came — a beauteous \'isioii, — 

Then vanished from my sight, 
His mng one moment clea^-ing 

The blackness of the night ; 
!My glad ear caught its rustle, 

Then sweepmg by, he stole 
The dewdrop that his coming 

Had cherished in my soul. 

Oh I he had been my solace 

When grief my spirit swayed, 
And on his fragile being 

Had tender hopes been stayed ; 
Where thought, where feeling lingered 

His form was sure to glide. 
And in the lone night watches 

"Twas ever by my side. 

He came ; but as the blossom 
Its petals closes up, 
,t And hides them from the tempest 

Within its sheltering cup • 
'• So he his spirit gathered 

Back to his frightened breast, 
And passed from earth's grim threshold, 
To be the Sa^dour's guest. 

My boy — ah me I the sweetness. 

The anguish of that word I — 
My boy, when in strange night dreams 

My slumbering soul is stirred ; 
When music floats around me, 

^^^len soft Hps touch my brow, 
And whisper gentle greetings, 

Oh, tell me, is it thou ? 

I know, by one sweet token, 

My Charlie is not dead ; 
One golden clue he left me, 

As on his track he sped ; 



BEREAVEMENT. 



77 



Were he some gem or blossom, 

But fashioned for to-day, 
My love would slowly perish 

^Yith his dissolving clay. 

Oh ! by this deathless yearning, 

AYhich is not idly given ; 
By the delicious nearness 

'My spirit feels to heaven ; 
By dreams that throng my night sleep, 

By visions of the day, 
By whispers when I'm erring, 

By promptings when I pray 

I know this life so cherished, 

Which sprang \A-ithin my heart, 
^^'hich formed of my o^^m being 

So beautiful a part ; 
This precious, winsome creature. 

My unfledged, voiceless dove, 
Lifts now a seraph's pinion. 

And warbles lays of love. 

Oh ! I would not recall thee. 

My glorious angel boy ! 
Thou needest not my bosom; 

Rare bird of light and joy ! 
Here dash I do^^TL the teardrops. 

Still gathering in my eyes ; 
Blest — oh ! how blest ! — in adding 

A seraph to the skies I 

MRS. EMILY JL'DSOX. 



OUR TREASURE IS WITH GOD. 

She had seen 
All of earth's year except the winter's snows. 
Spring, summer, autumn, like sweet dreams, had smiled 
On her. Eva — or living — was her name ; 
A bud of life, folded in leaves of love ; 
The dewy morning star of summer days ; 



GONE BEFORE. 



The golden lamps of happy fireside hours ; 

The little ewe lamb nestling by our side ; 

The dove whose cooing echoed in our hearts, 

The sweetest chord upon our harp of praise : 

The quiet spring, the rivulet of joy ; 

The pearl among His gifts who gave us all; 

On whom not we alone, but all who looked, 

Gazing, would breathe the involuntary words, 

** God bless thee, Eva ! God be blessed for thee ! 

Alas ! clouds gathered quickly, and the storai 

Fell without warning on our tender bud. 

Scattering its leaflets ; and the star was drenched 

In tears ; the lamp burnt dimly ; -unawares 

The little lamb was faint ; the weary dove 

Cower'd its young head beneath its drooping wing; 

The chord was loosened on our harp ; the fount 

Was troubled, and the rill ran nearly dry; 

And in our souls we heard our Father saying, 

Will ye return the gift ?" The voice was low — 
The answer lower still, — *'Thy will be done." 
And now, where we had often pictured her, 
I saw her one of the beatified ; 
Eva, our blossom, ours for ever now. 
Unfolding in the atmosphere of love : 
The star that set upon our earthly home 
Had risen in glory, and in purer skies 
Was shining ; and the lamp we sorely missed 
Shed its soft radiance in a better home ; 
Our lamb was pasturing in heavenly meads ; 
Our dove had settled on the trees of life ; 
Another chord was ringing with delight, 
Another spring of rapture was unsealed 
In paradise ; our treasure was with God ; 
The gift in the great Giver's strong right hand ; 
And none who looked on her could choose but say, 
*^ Eva, sweet angel ! God be blessed for thee !" 

REV. E. H. BICKERSTETH. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



79 



THE BROKEN LILY— THE STORM HAS OVERPAST. 

But now, thy youngest, dearest one has perished, 
The nursling of thy A^ddowhood, who grew 

Like a pale flower, by some sad maiden cherish'd, 
And fed with true-love tears instead of dew: 
Most musical of mourners, weep anew ! 

Thy extreme hope, the loveliest, and the last. 
The bloom whose petals nipt before they blew, 

Died in the promise of the fruit, is waste ; 
The broken lily lies — the storm is overpast. 

p. B. SHELLEY. 

SHE GENTLY SIGHED HER LITTLE SOUL AWAY. 

The cup of life just to her lips she pressed. 
Found the taste bitter, and declined the rest: 
Then looking upward to the realms of day, 
She gently sighed her little soul away. 

MRS. SOUTHEY. 



CHILDREN GONE BEFORE. 

- If parents did but know what a treasure they have stored up 
for them in the other world when one of their beloved children is 
called away from this, how the sting of death, so called, would 
be removed ! That so-called death is the birth into the real 
life—t\iQ still nearer communion with God the Saviour. Truly 
the child is not dead, but only gone before. 

MARY HOWITT. 



TAKEN FROM THE EVIL TO COME. 

Mourner, whatever may be your grief for the death of your 
children, it might have been stiU greater for their life. Bitter 
experience once led a good man to say, * ' It is better to weep 
for ten children dead than for one living." God may have 
taken the lamented objects of your affection from the evil to 
come. When extraordinary calamities are coming on the world. 



80 



GO^^E BEFORE. 



He frequently hides some of His feebler children in the grave. 
Surely, at such a portentous period it is happier for such as are 
prepared, to be lodged in that peaceful mansion, than to be ex- 
posed to calamities and distresses here. 

JOHN FLAVEL. 

THE CHILD IS ^YITH JESUS. 

It is a sore stroke to both of you ; but you must not dwell too 
much on the dark side of the picture. Look, too, at the sunny 
side, and reflect how many parents would feel highly honoured 
at having a child safely landed with Jesus in heaven. Her 
sweet features have left an indelible impression on my mind, 
which neither distance nor time can alter. ]May each of us have 
grace, under all circumstances, to glorify our God and Saviour ! 

MRS. S. BAINES. 

"Nearly every loss has two faces; the one with which it 
comes is temfic to look at, but the face with which it passes 
away is that of an angel of God." 

LORD MOUNTFORD. 

CRIMELESS AND FEARLESS THAT LITTLE 
ONE PASSED UNDER THE SHADOW. 

To me, few things appear so beautiful as a very young child in 
its shroud. The little innocent face looks so sublimely simple 
and confiding among the terrors of death. Crimeless and fearless 
that little mortal passed under the shadow, and explored the 
mystery of dissolution. There is death in its sublimest and 
purest image ; no hatred, no hypocrisy, no suspicion, no care for 
the morrow ever darkened that little one's face ; death has come 
lovingly upon it ; there is nothing cruel or harsh in its victory. 
The yearnings of love, indeed, cannot be stifled ; for the prattle 
and smiles, and all the little world of thoughts that were so 
delightful, are gone for ever. Awe, too, will overcast us in its 
presence, for we are looking on death ; but we do not fear for 
the lovely little voyager; for the child has gone, simple and 
trusting, into the presence of its all- wise Father; and of such 
is the kingdom of heaven. 

LEIGH HUNT. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



81 



WE CANNOT FEEL THAT SHE WILL NO 
MORE COME. 

'Tis difficult to feel that she is dead. 

Her presence, like the shadow of a \Ymg 

That is just lessening in the upper sky, 

Lingers upon us. We can hear her voice, 

And for her step we listen, and the eye 

Looks for her wonted coming with a strange, 

Forgetful earnestness. We cannot feel 

That she \\'ill no more come — that from her cheek 

The deHcate flush has faded, and the light 

Dead in her soft dark eye, and on her lip, 

That was so exquisitely pure, the dew 

Of the damp grave has fallen ! ^Vho, so loved. 

Is left among the li\'ing? Who hath walked 

The world with such a \\dnning loveliness, 

And on its bright brief journey gathered up 

Such treasures of affection? she was loved 

Only as idols are. She was the pride 

Of her familiar sphere — the daily joy 

Of all who on her gracefulness might gaze. 

And in the light and music of her way 

Have a companion's portion. Who could feel, 

^Yhile lookmg upon beauty such as hers, 

That it would ever perish? It is like 

The melting of a star into the sky 

^Vhile you are gazing on it, or a dream 

In its most ravishing sweetness rudely broken. 

N. P. WILLIS. 



TIME SOFTENS ALL REGRETS. 

Just as the child could totter on the floor. 
And by some friendly finger's help upstayed, 
Range round the garden walk, while she perchance 
Was catching at some novelty of spring, 
Ground-flower, or glossy insect from its cell 
Drawn by the sunshine — at that hopeful season 
The winds of March smiting insidiously, 
G 



82 



GONE BEFORE. 



Raised in the tender passage of the throat 
Viewless obstruction ; whence, all unfore warned, 
The household lost their pride and soul's delight. 
But time hath power to soften all regrets, 
And prayer and thought can bring to worst distress 
Due resignation. 

WORDSWORTH. 



SHE LEFT OFF BREATHING. 

I SAW our little Gertrude die ; 

She left off breathing, and no more ! 
I smoothed the pillow beneath her head. 

She was more beautiful than before. 
Like \-iolets faded were her eyes ; 

By this we knew that she was dead. 
Through the open window looked the skies 

Into the chamber w^here she lay, 
And the wind was like the sound of wings, 

As if angels came to bear her away. 
Ah ! when I saw and felt these things, 

I found it difficult to stay : 
I longed to die as she had died, 
And go forth with her, side by side. 

LONGFELLOW. 



WHY SHOULD WE MOURN FOR THE BLEST? 

Bright be the place of thy soul ! 

No lovelier spirit than thine 
E'er burst from its mortal control, 

In the orbs of the blessed to shine. 

On earth thou wert all but divine. 

As thy soul shall immortally be ; 
And our sorrow may cease to repine 

When we know that thy God is with thee. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Light be the turf of thy tomb ! 

May its verdure hke emeralds be ; 
There should not be the shadow of gloom 

In aught that reminds us of thee. 

Young flowers and an evergreen tree 
May spring from the spot of thy rest : 

But nor c}-press nor yew let us see ; 

For why should we mourn for the blest? 

LORD EYRON 



"AWA"' FROM OUR HEARTS THOU'LT 
NEVER BE. 

Thou'rt *'awa', awa'" from thy mother's side, 
And "awa', awa' " from thy father's knee; 

Thou'rt "awa' " from our blessing, our care, our caressing 
But "awa"' from our hearts thou'lt never be. 

All things, dear child, that were wont to please thee 

Are round thee here, in beauty bright; 
There's music rare in the cloudless air, 

And the earth is teeming with living delight. 

Thou'rt "awa', awa'" from the bursting spring-time. 
Though o'er thy head its green boughs wave ; 

The lambs are lea\'ing their little footprints 
Upon the turf of thy new-made grave. 

And art thou "awa"' and "awa' " for ever, — 

That little face, — that tender frame, — 
That voice which first, in sweetest accents, 

Call'd me the mother's thrilling name, — 

That head of nature's finest nrioulding, — 

Those eyes the deep night ether's blue, 
Where sensibility, its shadows 

Of ever-changing meaning threw ? 

Thy sweetness, patience, under suffering, 

All promised us an opening day 
Most fair, and told that to subdue thee 

Would need but love's most gentle sway. 



GONE BEFORE. 



All me ! 'twas here I thought to lead thee. 
And tell thee what are life and death ; 

And raise thy serious thought's first waking 
To Him who holds our every breath. 

And does my selfish heart then grudge thee 

That angels are thy teachers now,— 
That glory from thy Saviour's presence 

Kindles the cro^m upon thy brow ? 

C no ! to me earth must be loneHer, 
Wanting tliy voice, thy hand, thy love ; 

Yet dost thou da^Mi a star of promise, 
Ivlild beacon to the world above. 

MRS. HUGH MILLER. 

HUMBLY ^VE BOW TO GOD'S DECREE. 

And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, 

Our fond, dear boy — 
The realms where sorrow dare not come, 

"SMiere life is joy ? ' 
Pure at thy death as at thy birth, 
Thy spirit caught no taint from earth, 
E'en by its bliss we mete our death. 

Despair was in our last farewell, 

As closed thine eye ; 
Tears of our anguish may not tell 

^Mlen thou didst die ; 
Words may not paint our grief for thee. 
Sighs are but bubbles on the sea 
Of our mifathomed agony. 

Gem of our hearth, our household pride, 

Earth's undefiled. 
Could love have saved, thou hadst not died, 

Our dear, sweet child ! 
Humbly we bow to God's decree ; 
Yet had we hoped that Time should see 
.Thee mourn for us, not us for thee. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Do what I may (go where I will, 

Thou meet'st my sight) ; 
There dost thou glide before me still — 

A form of light ! 
I feel thy breath upon my cheek, 
I see thee smile, I hear thee speak, 
Till, oh ! my heart is like to break. 

Methinks thou smil'st before me now, 

With glance of stealth ; 
The hair thrown back from thy full brow. 

In buoyant health: 
I see thine eyes' deep violet light, 
Thy dimpled cheeks carnation bright. 
Thy clasping arms so round and white. 

E'en to the last, thy every word — 

To glad — to gri eve- 
Was sweet, as sweetest song of bird 

On summer's eve ; 
In outward beauty undecayed. 
Death o'er thy spirit cast no shade. 
And like the rainbow thou didst fade. 

We mourn for thee, when bleak, blank night 

The chamber fills ; 
We pine for thee, when morn's first light 

Reddens the hills ; 
The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea, 
All — to the wall-flower and wild-pea— 
Are changed: we saw the world through thee. 

And though, perchance, a smile may gleam 

Of casual mirth. 
It doth not owtij whate'er may seem, 

An inward birth : 
We miss thy small step on the stair ; 
We miss thee at thine evening prayer ; 
All day we miss thee — everywhere. 



83 



GONE BEFORE. 



'Tis so ; but can it be (while flowers 

Revive again) — 
Man's doom, in death that we and ours 

For aye remain ? 
Oh ! can it be, that o'er the grave. 
The grass renew'd should yearly wave, 
Yet God forget our child to save 

It cannot be ; for were it so 

Thus man could die ; 
Life were a mockery — Thought were woe — 

And Truth a lie — 
Heaven were a coinage of the brain — 
Religion frenzy — Virtue vain — 
And all our hopes to meet again. 

Then be to us, O dear, lost child 

With beam of love, 
A star, death's uncongenial wild 

Smiling above ! 
Soon, soon thy little feet have trod 
The skyward path, the seraph's road, 
That led thee back from man to God. 

Yet, 'tis sweet balm to our despair, 

Fond, fairest boy, 
That heaven is God's, and thou art there. 

With Him in joy ! 
There, past are death and all its woes. 
There beauty's stream for ever flows. 
And pleasure's day no sunset knows. 

Farewell then — for a while, farewell — 

Pride of my heart ! 
It cannot be that long we dwell 

Thus torn apart : 
Time's shadows like the shuttle flee 
And dark howe'er life's night may be. 
Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee. 

D. M. MOIR. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



87 



*'IS IT WELL WITH THE CHILD?" AND SHE 
ANSWERED, **'TIS WELL." 

" Is it well with the child?" And she answered, 'Tis well"— 

But I gazed on the mother who spake, 
For the tremulous tear, as it sprang from its cell. 

Bade a doubt in my bosom awake ; 
And I marked that the bloom from her features, had fled. 

So late in their loveliness rare, 
And the hue of the watcher that bends o'er the dead 

Was gathering all languidly there. 

*^ Is it well with the child ? " And she answered, 'Tis well " — 

But I thought of its beauty and grace. 
When the tones of its laughter would merrily swell 

At affection's delighted embrace : 
And through their long fringe, as it rose from its sleep 

Its eyes beamed a rapturous ray. 
And I wondered that silence should settle so deep 

O'er the home of a being so gay. 

** Is it well with the child ? " And she answered, 'Tis well ; 

No more will it shudder with pain ; 
Of the pang and the gi-oan, and the gasp it might tell, — 

It never will suffer again. 
In my dreams, as an angel it stands by my side. 

In the garments of beauty and love ; 
And I hear its glad lays to the Saviour who died, 

'Mid the choir of the blessed above." 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



ABIDE, MY CHILD, WHERE THOU ART BLEST. 

Then be it as my Father wills, 

I will not weep for thee ; 
Thou livest, joy thy spirit fills, 

Pure sunshine thou dost see, — 
The sunshine of eternal rest. 
Abide, my child, where thou art blest ; 
I, with our friends will onward fare, 
And, when God wills, shall find thee there ! 

PAUL GERHARDT {wriUeU 1650). 



88 



GONE BEFORE. 



A LEAF FROM OUR FLOWER OF LOVE. 

Our baby lies under the snow, sweet 

Our baby lies under the snow, 
Out in the dark vrith the night, 

While the "v^-inds so loudly blow. 
As a dead saint thou art pale, sweet wife, 

And the cross is on thy breast ; 
Oh, the snow no more can chill 

That little dove in its nest ! 

Shall we shut the baby out, sweet wife, 

While the chilling ^^'inds do blow ? 
Oh ! the grave is now its bed, 

And its coverlid is snow. 
Oh ! our meiT}^ bird is snared, sweet \yife, 

That a rain of music gave. 
And the snow falls on our hearts, 

And our hearts are each a grave. 

Oh ! it was the lamp of our life, sweet ^\'ife ! 

Blown out in a night of gloom ; 
A leaf from our flower of love. 

Nipped in its fresh spring bloom. 
But the lamp will shine above, sweet "v^^fe, 

And the leaf again shall grow ; 
Where there are no more bitter winds, 

And no dreary, dreary snow. 

SHELDON CHADWICK. 

A THORNLESS SORROW. 

Speaking from sad experience, a long time must yet elapse 
ere you and his mother will be able to look back on your 
deprivation with philosophic and unimpassioned minds, or be 
able to dissever the zu/zat must be from the what wz^/z/* havebeoi. 
But when that time does come, you will find that the lamenta- 
tion for an innocent child is a thornless sorrow, and that the 
steadfast faith, through the Redeemer, of meeting him again, and 
for ever, can lend a joy to griefl 

D. M. MOIR. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



IN HEAVEN WE CALL IT OUR OWN. 

The angels dropped us a wee wLite flower, 

Yes, surely it was from heaven it fell ; 
Then came the \vind and the beating shower, 

But it was sheltered down in our deU. 
And it grew and grew through the fresh spring days, 

The sweeteest blossom that ever God made : 
Then came the sun with his scorching rays, 

But down in our dell there was cool and shade. 
And it grew and grew in the summer air, 

It was a lily of paradise. 
And we watched it open each day more fair, 

Nothing on earth so dear in our eyes. 
And tenderly we fenced it about. 

And the angels of heaven they guarded it well 
Then came the time of the sultry drought. 

But the brook ran clear in our shadowy dell. 
So it grew and grew, come foul, come fair. 

And never a soil on its whiteness stood, 
And, because the angels made it their care, 

From good and bad it drew only good 
And oh the blessing to see it grow ! 

And I think that our hearts both grew as it grew ; 
And oh ! we loved it, we loved it so ! 

And we called it ours, and thought we spoke true. 
But at last it had grown so sweet and so white. 

That the angels could not leave it us still. 
And they came and took it away in the night. 

One sad still night when the mist was chill. 
And oh the blank when our lily went ! 

And we look in each other's faces alone, 
And we say sometimes, Well, it was but lent," 

Yet, even in heaven, we call it our o^i^. 
And I think it must be meant for us at last. 

For would God have made us love it in vain ? 
Perhaps, if the gate of heaven were past. 

His hand v/ould give us our blossom again. 

AUGUSTA WEBSTER, 



90 



GONE BEFORE. 



SHE LOOKED AS THOUGH SHE SLEPT. 

How lovely she looked as she lay in her little satin-lined 
coffin with her tiny fingers clasped, and the dimpled hands rest- 
ing on her quiet innocent breast ! The pure white rose-buds 
were not fairer or more beautiful than the rounded cheek against 
which they rested. The little lips had just begun to syllable 
that sweetest of heart- words, Mamma;" and, as she lay 
there in her coffin, a loving smile lingered about the mouth, 
and she looked as though she slept, and would just now start 
up with her bird-like laugh, and throw her arms about 
the neck that was bending over her, and nestle to the aching 
heart, murmuring, Mamma, dear mamma," as she was wont 
to do. I had watched with her when the silver cord" was 
broken, and wept when her blue eyes closed upon us for ever : 
for she was very dear to me ; but, as I murmured, I fancied 
there came to me, in the silence of that dread hour, the soft 
rustle of wings ; and I knew that our darling was being borne 
away home by angels, herself the purest and loveliest of them 
all. When we had robed her little form for the last time, and 
twined the golden ringlets in which our heart so prided, placing 
pale flowers among them, the clergyman came to speak to 
the afflicted parents, and sympathizing friends who had come 
to look for the last time upon our little pet ; and as we gathered 
round him, listening for words of comfort, he told us of the 
blessed world to which she had gone — pointing us thither. 

ANNE ELLIOTT. 



THY CHILD IS WITH THE ANGEL BAND. 

FRIEND. 

Why does sorrow cloud thy face ? 

Has mercy not a smile from thee ? 
Had earth and heaven no happiness, 

But the sweet cherub on thy knee — 
Now in the silent churchyard laid ? 
Is all around one starless shade ? 



BEREAVEMENT. 



MOTHER. 

You speak like one who never felt ; 

Death never clasped the child you love : 
I see my boy — as we have knelt 

In grateful prayer to God above — 
The pride, the idol of my heart ; 
Ah ! how I felt when forced to part ! 

FRIEND. 

But think you that you weep alone ? 

Are there no breaking hearts but thine 
Sorrow is human nature's own, 

And your dark hour may soon be mine, 
The grief you feel, the tears you shed, 
Are streaming hourly for the dead. 

MOTHER. 

And deem you there is comfort here ? 

Can I draw solace from their woe ? 
I cannot, from a mother's tear, 

E'en if that mourner were my foe ; 
Our griefs will mingle — both will weep, 
Where the young withered blossoms sleep. 

FRIEND. 

Time has a balm for weeping hearts ; 

'Twill, silent, bear thy griefs away ; 
And slowly, as the night departs. 

Smiles yet will come, like dawning day, 
New hopes shall beam, and you forget. 
When sorrow, like the night, has set. 

MOTHER. 

There is deep anguish in the thought — 
Forget my once bright blooming boy ! 

No ! earth, nor time can e'er bring aught 
His name, his memory, to destroy ; 

\^ou say a few short years, and then, 

Forget ! — oh, name it not again I 



GONE BEFORE. 



FRIEND. 

Religion hath a soothing tone, 

A smile to cheer the deepest gloom ; 

\^niile what we loved on earth is gone, 
Itj rainbow-like, spans o'er the tomb, 

And, widowed as thy heart may be, 

Religion teems with peace for thee. 

MOTHER. 

Oh, does religion blame the tear — 
A mother's tribute to the dead ? 

I felt its influence o'er his bier, 

When dust to dust my child was laid. 

My love was strong, my grief is deep, 

But say not it is wong to weep, 

FRIEND 

Prayer can soothe the troubled hour 
That broods upon the sufferer's breast 

For prayer is peace, and prayer is power 
To calm the tempest into rest : 

Prayer is the faith of mourners here, 

And triumphs o'er their saddest tear. 

MOTHER. 

Yes ! I have knelt in tears and prayer, 
And deemed I felt a peace divine ; 

But still a mother's love was there, 
And dared at mercy's throne repine ; 

In the strong gushings of my love. 

When kneeling at the throne above. 

FRIEND. 

Hope points thee to a better land— 
A home, a cloudless paradise ; 

Thy child is -vWth the angel band, 

Who hymn their harps in yonder skies 

Then dry thy tears, and weep no more ; 

He is not lost, but gone before ! 



BEREAVEMENT. 



93 



MOTHER. 

Oh! you have touched a chord of joy; 

I now "wdll wipe my tears away, 
Till I shall meet my much-loved boy 

In realms of everlasting day ! 
"When life's poor chequered day is o'er, 
Then shall we meet to part no more ! 

H. BROWN, Author of'''' The Covenanters^' Sec. 



HE CLAIMED ANOTHER LAMB. 
Again 

That elder Shepherd came ; my heart grew faint, 
He claimed another lamb, with sadder plaint. 
Another ! She, who, gentle as a saint, 
Ne'er gave me pain. 

Aghast I turned away ; 
There sat she, lovely as an angel's dream. 
Her golden locks with sunlight all a-gleam. 
Her holy eyes vnth. heaven in their beam ; 

I knelt to pray: 

Is it thy will? 
My Father, say, must this pet Lamb be given? 
Oh, thou hast many such, dear Lord, in heaven 
And a soft voice said, ' ' Nobly hast thou striven 

But — peace, be still ! 

O, how I wxpt ! 
And clasped her to my bosom with a wild 
And yearning love — my lamb, my pleasant child : 
Her, too, I gave — the little angel smiled, 
And slept 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



*^ Christ died for us, that whether we wake or sleep, we 
should live together with Him." — i Thess. v. lo. 

I 



94 



GONE BEFORE. 



WERE ALL THE DEAD LIKE THEE, HOW LOVELY 
WERE THE DEAD! 

Ere day was well begun, 
In what brief span of time 
Thy living course and work were done ; 
Thou saw'st no night, nor even noon, 

But only morning's prime ; 
Smiling thou sleepest now, but hadst thou found 
A longer life, tears might those smiles have drowned. 

Thine was a blessed flight. 

Ere sorrow clouded, or ere sin could slay; 
No weary course was thine, no arduous fight ; 
But an hour on earth of labour light, 

And hire for all the day. 
Can aught be more than this? 

Yes, Christian, yes ! 

It is much more to live. 

And a long life to the good fight" to give ; 
*'To keep the faith," the appointed race to run; 
And then to win the praise, — " Serv^ant of God, well done 

It is an early hour, 

Sweet child, to fall asleep ! 
Ere yet thy bud had sho\Mi its flower, 
Or morning dews had ceased to shower; 

But, in repose, how deep 
Thou calmly liest on thine infant bed ! 
Were all the dead like thee, how lovely were the dead ! 

MRS. CHARLE^; 



SHE PASSED AWAY LIKE MORNING DEW. 

Ah ! well it is since she is gone, 

She may return no more 
To see that face so dim and wan, 

That was so warm before. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



95 



Familiar things would all seem strange, 

And pleasures past be woe ; 
A record sad of ceaseless change 

Is all the world below. 

The very hills, they are not now 

The hills that once they were, 
They change as we are changed, or how 

Could we the burden bear ? 

Ye deem the dead are ashy pale, ^ 

Cold denizens of gloom ; 
But what are ye that live and wail, 

And weep upon the tomb ? 

She passed away like morning dew 

Before the sun was high ; 
So brief her time, she scarcely knew 

The meaning of a sigh. 

As round the rose, as soft perfume, 

Sweet love around her floated ; 
Beloved she grew, while mortal doom 

Crept on, unfelt, unnoted. 

Love was her guardian angel here ; 

But love to Death resigned her : 
Though love was kind, why should we fear 

But holy Death is kinder ? 

HARTLEY COLERIDGE. 



SAFE FROM TEMPTATION, SHE LIVES WHOM 
WE CALL DEAD. 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair ! 



GONE BEFORE. 



The air is full of farewells to the djTiig, 

And mourmiigs for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children cr}ing 

AVill not be comforted. 

Let us be patient ! these severe afihctions 

iN'ot from the ground arise ; 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

"We see but dimly through the mists and vapours 

Amid these earthly damps 
"What seem to us but sad funereal tapers, 

i\Iay be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no death ! what seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb to the life Elysian, 

^^llose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead — the child of our affection — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth mle. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 

By guardian angels led. 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives, whom we call dead. 

Day after day, we thmk what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air ; 
Year after year, her tender steps pursumg, 

Behold her gro^^Tl more fair. 

Thus do we walk \\ith her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives. 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspokei 

Ivlay reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For when with raptures wild, 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



97 



But a fair maiden in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we beheld her face. 

And though at times impetuous with emotion, 

And anguish long suppressed, 
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, 

That cannot be at rest — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 
By silence sanctifpng, not concealing, 

The grief that must have way. 

LONGFELLOW. 



WHEN I BEGIN TO MURMUR, MY SPIRIT LOOKS 
ABOVE. 

Child, by God's sweet mercy given to thy mother and to me, 
Entering this world of sorrows, by His grace, — so fair to see ; 
Fair as some sweet flower in summer, till Death's hand on thee 
was laid. 

Scorched the beauty from my flower, made the tender petals fade. 
Yet I dare not weep nor murmur, for I know the King of Kings 
Leads thee to His marriage -chamber, — to the glorious bridal 
brings. 

Nature fain would leave me weeping, love asserts her mournful 
right ; 

But I answer, they have brought thee to the happy world of light! 
And I fear that my lamentings, as I speak thy cherished name, 
Desecrate the Royal dwelling, — fear to meet deserved blame, 
If I press with tears of anguish into the abode of joy. 
Therefore will I, meekly bowing, offer thee to God, my boy ! 
Yet thy voice, thy childish singing, soundeth ever in my ears ; 
And I listen, and remember, till mine eyes will gather tears. 
Thinking of thy pretty prattlings, and thy childish v;ords of love; 
But when I begin to murmur, then my spirit looks above, — 
Listening to the songs of spirits ; listens, longing, wondering, 
To the ceaseless glad hosannahs angels at thy bridal sing. 

EPHRiEM SYRUS. 

H 



98 



GONE BEFORE. 



MY PLEDGE IN HEAVEN. 

Can I, who have for others oft compiled 
The songs of death, forget my sweetest child ? 
We have this sign of joy, that many days 
While on the earth his struggling spirit stays, 
The name of Jesus in his mouth contains 
His holy food, his sleep, his ease from pains. 
Oh may that sound be rooted in my mind 
Of which in him such strong effect I find ! 
Dear Lord, receive my son, whose \vinning love 
To me was like a friendship, far above 
The course of nature, or his tender age ; 
Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage ; 
Let his pure soul — ordained seven years to be 
In that frail body which was part of me — 
Remain my pledge in heaven, as sent to show 
How to this port at every step I go. 

SIR JOHN BEAUMONT. 



INTO THE SUDDEN GLORY, OUT OF THE DARK 
HE TROD. 

Dost thou weep, mournful mother, 

For thy blind boy in the grave ? 
That no more v^^th. each other 

Sweet counsel ye can have ? 
That he, left dark by nature. 

Can never more be led 
By thee, maternal creature, 

Along smooth paths instead ? 
That thou canst no more show him 

The sunshine by the heat? 
The river's silver flo\^dng, 

By murmurs at his feet ? 
The foliage, by its coolness ; 

The roses, by their smell ; 
And all creation's fulness, 

By love's invisible ? 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Weepest thou to behold not 

His meek bhnd eyes again,— 
Closed doorways which were folded, 

And prayed against in vain— 
And under which sate smiling 

The child-mouth evermore, 
As one who watcheth, wiling 

The time by, at a door ? 
And weepest thou to feel not 

His clmging hand on thine — 
Which now, at dream-time, will not 

Its cold touch disentwine ? 
And weepest thou still ofter, 

Oh, never more to mark 
His low soft words, made softer 

By speaking in the dark ? 
Weep on, thou mournful mother ! 

But since to him, when living, 

Thou wert both sun and mooHj 
Look o'er his grave, surviving, 

From a bright sphere alone. 
Sustain that exaltation. 

Expand that tender light ; 
And hold, in mother-passion, 

Thy blessed in thy sight. 
See how he went out straightway 

From the dark world he knew, — 
No twilight in the gateway 

To mediate 'twixt the two— 
Into the sudden glory. 

Out of the dark he trod, 
Departing from before thee 

At once to light and God !— 
For the first face, beholding 

The Christ's in its Divine, — 
For the first place, the golden 

And tideless hyaline ; — 
"With trees, at lasting summer, 

That rock to songful sound, 



100 



GONE BEFORE. 



While angels the new-comer 

Wi-ap a still smile around ! 
Oh, in the blessed psalm now, 

His happy voice he tries, — 
Spreading a thicker palm-bough 

Than others, o'er his eyes, — 
Yet still, in all the singing. 

Thinks haply of thy song. 
Which, in his life's first springing, 

Sang to him all night long,— > 
And ^vishes it beside him, 

With kissing lips that cool 
And soft did overglide him 

To make the sweetness full. 
Look up, O mournful mother: 

Thy blind boy walks in light ! 
Ye wait for one another. 

Before God's infinite ! 
But thou art now the darkest, 

Thou, mother left below — 
Thou, the sole blind, — thou markest, 

Content that it be so: — 
Until ye two give meeting 

Where the gi'eat heaven-gate is. 
And he shall lead thy feet in. 

As once thou leddest his ! 
Wait on, thou mournful mother. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



HEAVEN SAW, AND EARLY MARKED THEE FOR 
ITS OWN. 

In some rude spot where \ailgar herbage grows, 

If chance a violet rear its purple head, 
The careful gardener moves it ere it blows 
To thrive and flourish in a nobler bed ; 
Such was thy fate, dear child, 
Thy opening such ; * 



BEREAVEMENT. 



101 



Pre-eminence in early bloom was shown, 
For earth too good, perhaps, 
And loved too much, 
Heaven saw, and early marked thee for its own. 

R. B. SHERIDAX. 



THIS LITTLE SHOE OF THE PAST DOTH TELL. 

I FOUND it here — a worn-out shoe, 
All mildewed with time and wet with dew, 
'Tis a little thing ; ye would pass it bye 
With never a thought, or word, or sigh ; 
Yet it stirs in my bosom a hidden well. 
And in eloquent tones of the past doth tell. 

It tells of a little fairy child. 
That bound my heart with a magic wild. 
Of bright blue eyes and golden hair, 
That ever shed joy and sunlight there- 
of a prattling voice so sweet and clear. 
And the tiny feet that ever were near. 

It tells of hope that with her had birth. 

Deep buried now in the silent earth; 

Of a heart that had met an answering tone 

That again is left alone alone ! 

Of days of watching, and anxious prayer — • 

Of a night of sorrow and dark despair. 

It tells of a form that is cold and still ; 
Of a little mound upon yonder hill. 
That is dearer far to a mother's heart, 
Than the classic statues of Grecian art" — 
Ah ! strangers may pass with a careless air, 
Nor dream of the hopes that are buried there ! 

O ! ye who have never o'er loved ones wept — 
Whose brightest hopes have ne'er been swept 
Like the pure white cloud from the summer sky — 
Like the wreath of mist from the mountain high — 
Like the rainbow beaming a moment here. 
Then melting away to its native sphere — 



102 



GONE BEFORE. 



Like rose-leaves loosed by the zephyr's sigh — 
Like that zephyr wafting its perfume bye — 
Like the wave that kisses some graceful spot, 
Then passes away, but is ne'er forgot ; — 
If, like these, your life-hopes have never fled, 
Ye cannot know of the tears I shed. 

Ye cannot know what a little thing 

From memory's silent fount can bring, 

The voice and form that were once so dear ; 

Yet there are hearts, were they only here, 

That could feel with me, when all wet with dew; — 

I found it this morning — this little shoe. 

D. M. MOIR. 



WE SHALL CLASP AGAIN IN ARMS OF LOVE 
THE LOVE WE MISS. 

When Death came for our babe that day, 
He did not hurt her much, dear love, 
In placing wings upon our dove. 

That she, sweet thing, might flee away. 

Just as the night when it is spent, 

And morning dawns, or like a thought 
That leaves the soul, and is upcaught 

Into a heaven of dreams she went. 

And we stood gazing at the light 

That wreathed her round when she did go. 
Until it vanished in the woe 

Of walking henceforth in the night. 

She nestled here, our precious dove, 

Upon the green boughs of the heart, 

And well she played her little part, 
In singing songs of hope and love. 

• There's much of beauty here unfurled : 
Oh, blessed God ! the flowers are sweet 
That twine themselves around our feet, 
And Love can make a happy world. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



103 



But beauty somehow less hath given 
To our poor eyes of late, and now 
We've nought for achmg breast and brow 

Save glunpses of the distant heaven; 

Save glimpses of that better land, 

Made clear to us through sufferings here, 
That left us nearer and more near 

Each time God bows us with his hand. 

And we shall fold and clasp again 

In arms of love, the love we miss, 

And end all greetings with a kiss 
That shall seal up the gates of pain. 

MATTHIAS EARR. 



TO ALLURE HER TO HEAVEN, GOD HAD TAKEX 
HER TREASURE AWAY. 

I SAW the young mother in tenderness bend 

O'er the couch of her slumbering boy, 
And she kissed the soft lips as they murmured her name 

^^'hile the dreamer lay smiling in joy. 
Oh! sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew 

When its fragrance is flung on the air, 
So fresh and so bright to the mother he seemed 

As he lay in his innocence there. 
But I saw, when she gazed on the same lovely form 

Pale as marble, and silent and cold ; 
But paler and colder her beautiful boy. 

And the tale of her sorrow was told ; 
But the Healer was there, who had smitten her heart 

And taken her treasure away. 
To allure her to heaven. He had placed it on high, 

And the mourner will sweetly obey ; 
There had whispered a voice — 'twas the voice of liei' 
God, 

I love thee, I love thee, pass under the rod." 

M. S. B. DANA. 



104 



GONE BEFORE. 



AGAIN TO MEET." 

Once again that Shepherd laid his hand 
Upon the noblest of our household band ; 
Like a pale spectre, there He took His stand, 
Close to his side. 

And yet how wondrous sweet 
The look with which he heard my passionate cry--^ 

Touch not my lamb — ^for him O let me die 
"A little while," he said, with smile and sigh, 
Again to meet." 

Hopeless I fell ; 
And when I rose the light had burned so low, 
So faint, I could not see my darling go. 
He had not bidden me farewell ; but ah ! 

I felt farewell 

More deeply far 
Than if my arms had compassed that slight frame ; 
Though could I but have heard him breathe my name, 
Dear mother ! " — but in heaven 'twill be the same ; 
There shines my star, 

MRS. SIGOURNEY, 



I CANNOT DREAD THE DEATH MADE 
BEAUTIFUL BY THEE. 

I NEVER thought of him and death, so far apart they seemed — 
The love that would have died to save of danger scarcely dreamed ; 
Too late the fear that prompted help — too late the yeammg care ; 
Yet who that saw his lustrous face could doubt that death would 
spare ? 

Oh, could my pangs have lightened his, or eased his failing 
breath, 

I would have drained the bitter cup had every drop been death ; 
But though I drank his agony until my heart o'erflowed, 
From off the little sufferer's breast I could not lift the load. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



105 



It weighed him down ; I saw him sink away from life and me ; 
Grief waded in the gentlest eyes ; my own could scarcely see : 
He looked so calm, he felt so cold — all hope, all life had fled — 
A cry of pain would have been sweet, but pain itself was dead. 

They took his form of innocence, and stretched it out alone ; 
Tears fell upon the pulseless clay, like rain-drops upon stone; 
They closed his eyes of beauty, for their glory was o'ercast, 
And sorrow drew its deepest shade from gladness that was past. 

The sun was lazy in the heavens that day our darling died, 
And longer wore away the night we missed him from our side ; 
All sleep was scared by weary sobs from one wild heart and mine ; 
The only sleep m all the house, my innocent ! was thine. 

I made mad inquest of the skies; I breathed an inward psalm: 
The stars burned incense at God's feet — I grew more strong and 
calm : 

I uttered brave and soothing words as was my manhood's part. 
Then hurried speechlessly aAvay to hide the father's heart. 

His coffin-crib a soft hand decked mth flowers of sweetest scent; 
To beauty and decay akin, their living breath they lent ; 
But never could they breath impart whence other breath had 
flown ; — 

Ah me! affection's helplessness, when death has claimed his 
own ! 

Our child was now God's holy child, yet still he lingered here ; — 
Oh, could we but have kept him thus, the pictured dust how dear, 
But soon the grave its summons \^Tit upon the blackening lips, 
And wheresoe'er I looked for light I only saw eclipse. 

There was no loveliness in flowers, in human eyes, or books ; 
Dear household faces flitted round with pained and ghastly looks ; 
A shadow muffled like a mist the splendours of the day, 
And sorrow speaking to the night took all its stars away. 

No more might fair hands fondly smooth the pillow for his head ; 
The joyless task was now all mine to lay him in his bed: 
I laid him in his earth- cold bed, and buried with him there 
The hope that, trembling on its knees, expired 'mid broken 
prayer. 



106 



GONE BEFORE. 



As in the round and beauteous bud the promise we may trace 
Of the unfolded perfect flower, I used to read his face, 
Till love grown rash in prophecy foretold him brave and strong — 
A battler for the true and right, a trampler on the wrong. 

Had I my life to live again I know how I would live, 
And all the wisdom I have learned, to him I meant to give — 
To bless his glowing boyhood with the ripeness of my age, 
And train him up a better man, to tread a nobler stage : 

To train him up a perfect man, the cro\vn of life to win, 
With kingly chastity of thought to awe rebellious sin, 
With all the lights thrown forward of a bright un wasted youth — 
A soul as pure as cloistered love, and strong as castled truth. 

His lot, how happy had it been, with age to guard and guide ! 
And yet he might have proved a sire — ^his darling might have 
died: 

If so, I need not canvass more the heavens why this should be — ■ 
Ah ! better to be early dead, than live to weep like me ! 

Tears ! tears ! ye never can be his ! The thought my own should 
dry; 

Yet other thoughts and sadder thoughts still brood the foun- 
tains by: 

Why was a treasure to me given, for death so soon to take ? 
Oh, may the answer be a heart grown purer for his sake ! 

Striving one day to be myself, of living things I thought. 
And musing on my blessings left, a calm was in me wrought, 
Till gliding to my infant's room, all noiselessly I stept. 
And shuddered as remembrance woke, that there no more he slept. 

The world is emptied of my child, yet crowded with his loss ; 
The silence and the vacancy my steps for ever cross ; 
W^ith every sound of merriment my sorrow is at strife. 
And happy infants stare at me like pictures wanting life. 

So gently wail, ye pleasant winds! and weep, ye silver showers! 
Thou shadow of the cypress tree, lie lightly on the flowers ! 
The summer has its mildews, and the daylight has its clouds, 
And some put on their marriage robes, while some are clad in 
shrouds. 



BEREAVEMENT. 107 

Thus o'er the gleaming track of life the generations run — 
Do they to clodded darkness pass, or to a brighter sun ? 
Does nothing spiritual live ? can soul become a sod ? 
Is man on earth an orphan ? is creation void of God ? 

Is the resplendent cope of night deserted, drear, and dead ? 
Does no great ear lean down to catch the prayers by good rr.en 
said? 

Is groan of murdered patriot, or shout of martyred saint, 
As idle as on savage shores, the homeless ocean's plaint? 

Above the lands that front the sky in the illumined east. 
The stars hang low and large like lamps at some immortal feast, 
And from those lands so near to heaven have wondrous voices 
come 

Of God's eternal fatherhood, and man's celestial home. 

I marvel, then, dear child of mine ! whom 'neath the grass I laid. 
If winged and bright, a spirit now, though scarcely purer made, 
Thou liv'st in His almighty care, in mansions of the skies ! 
Oh say, wilt thou come down to me, or I to thee arise ? 

Great mysteries are around thee, child ! unknown or dim to me, 
But yet I cannot dread the death made beautiful by thee ; 
The path thy little feet have trod I may not fear to tread, 
And so I follow on to thee, as by an angel led. 

JOHN HEDDERWICK. 



A CHILD THAT WE LOVED IS GONE TO 
HEAVEN. 

One look upon thy face ere thou depart ! 
My daughter ! It is soon to let thee go ! 
My daughter ! with, thy birth has gushed a spring 
I knew not of— filling my heart with tears. 
And turning with strange tenderness to thee — ■ 
A love — oh God ! it seems so — that must flow 
Far as thou fleest, and 'twixt heaven and me. 
Henceforward, be a bright and yearning chain 
Drawing me after thee ! - And so, farewell ! 



108 



GONE BEFORE. 



'Tis a harsh world, in which affection knows 

No place to treasure up its loved and lost, 

But the foul grave ! Thou who so late wast sleeping, 

Warm in the close fold of a mother's heart, 

Scarce from her breast a single pulse receiving, 

But it was sent thee with some tender thought, 

How can I leave thee here. Alas for man ! 

The herb in its humility may fall 

And waste into the bright and genial air, 

While we — ^by hands that ministered in life 

Nothing but love to us — are thrust away — ' 

The earth flung in upon our just cold bosoms. 

And the warm sunshine trodden out for ever ! 

Yet have I chosen for thy grave, my child, 

A bank where I have lain in summer hours, 

And thought how little it would seem like death 

To sleep amid such loveliness. The brook, 

Tripping with laughter down the rocky steps 

That lead up to thy bed, would still trip on, 

Breaking the dead hush of the mourners gone ; 

The birds are never silent that build here. 

Trying to sing down the more vocal waters: 

The slope is beautiful with moss and flowers, 

And far below, seen under arching leaves. 

Glitters the warm sim on the v'llage spire 

Pointing the living after thee. And this 

Seems like a comfort ; and, replacing now 

The flowers that have made room for thee, I go 

To whisper the same peace to her who lies, 

Robbed of her child and lonely. 'Tis the work 

Of many a dark hour, and of many a prayer, 

To bring the heart back from an infant gone, 

Hope must give o'er, and busy fancy blot 

The images from all the silent rooms. 

And every sight and sound familiar to her, 

Undo its sweetest link — and so at last 

The fountain — that, once struck, must flow for ever— = 

Will hide , and waste in silence. When the smile 

Steals to her pallid lip again, and spring 



BEREAVEMENT. 



109 



Wakens the buds above thee, we vnll come, 
And, standing by thy music-haunted grave, 
Look on each other cheerfully, and say : 

A child that we have loved is gone to heaven, 
And by this gate of flowers she passed away I " 

N. P. WILLIS. 



ASK STRENGTH FOR SORROW'S HOUR. 

Thou, that can'st gaze upon thine own fair boy. 
And hear his prayer's low murmur at thy knee, 
And o'er his slumber bend in breathless joy, 
Come to this tomb ! it hath a voice for thee ! 
Pray ! thou art blest — ask strength for sorrow's hour. 
Love, deep as thine, lays low its broken flower. 

MRS. HEMANS. 



GOD GAVE ME STRENGTH TO LAY HIM WHERE 
HIS MOTHER SLEPT. 

I HAD a little blossom, — its nursing root was dead, 
And in my breast I hid it, when its angel mother fied, 
But at every blast I shuddered, and I trembled day and night 
Lest some unseen destroyer, my only bud should blight. 

Two years of sleepless care, yet of high and sacred joy, 
Brought forth in ruddy health, my lovely blooming boy, 
With the curls around his head, and the lustre in his eye, 
And the music on his lip, like a song-bird of the sky. 

In wakeful hours I mused, and I wished while others sleep 
That for his precious sake my wealth was broad and deep. 
So I forced my lingering mind for a little while to go 
And gather for my son, where the gold and silver grow. 

The old nurse loved my blooming boy, and round her neck he 
clung 

With his clasping ivory amis, and his busy flattering tongue, 
She promised to be faithful, with the tear upon her cheek, 
And I tore myself away, while he lay in slumbers sweet. 



110 



GONE BEFORE, 



Both night and day I toiled, while my heart was with the child, 
And on my every labour propitious fortune smiled — 
Then I homeward set my face, when the spring flowers 'gan to 
blow. 

Oh for an eagle's pinion — the flying car how slow ! 

I brought the baubles that he loved, the tiny gilded drum, 
The crimson banner'd host, that to mimic battle come ; 
The Argonautic shells, that sail in pearly fleet. 
And in its pretty cage, the bright winged parroquet. 

My trees ! my roof ! I knew them well, though midnight's veil 
was drear. 

The pale nurse lamp was flickering within the nursery dear. 
But a muffled watcher started thence, at my impatient tread. 
And there my darling lay, on his white mattress bed. 

How still ! my God, is there no voice ? and has it come to this ? 
The white lip quivereth not, to my impassioned kiss I 
'Tis a coldness like the grave ! my idol ! can it be ? 
O Father, from thy throne above in mercy look on me. 

They told me how the fever raged, and in his broken dream 
How he called upon the absent, with shrill and frantic scream. 
How he set his teeth on cup and spoon, with hated med'cine 
fraught. 

But at his father's treasured name, he took the bitterest draught. 

God gave me strength to lay him where his mother slept, 
The fragrant vines she used to train around her feet had crept, 
But I cut their roots away, that the bud she loved the best 
Might spread its withered petals upon her pulseless breast. 

And now I wander wide, beneath a foreign sky. 
In the strangers' home I lodge, for no household hearth have I ; 
There are grey hairs on my temples, despite my early years, 
But I find there's still a comfort in drying others' tears. 

Why should I cloud my brow, or yield to dark despair ? 
All — all men are my brethren, and this fruitful earth is fair; 
For I know when heav'n hath wounded, and probed the bleeding 
breast. 

Its richest healing balm is, in making others blest. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Ill 



The poor man he doth thank me, and the orphan's grateful 
prayer 

Breathes sweetly o'er my lonely soul, and soothes away its care ; 
In the sick peasant's cabin the gift he needs I lay, 
And, ere he seeks the giver, I vanish far away. 

I have a sacred joy, close locked from mortal eye. 
My loved ones come to visit me, when lost in dreams I lie ; 
They speak such words to charm me, as only angels say. 
And the beauty of their robes of light, beams round me thro' 
the day. 

God is their keeper and their friend, their bliss no tongue can 
tell— 

And more I love His holy name, that in His home they dwell ; 
Oh may He grant me grace divine, while on these shores of time 
To learn the dialect they speak, in yon celestial clime. 

Beside His glorious throne they rest, on seraph harps they play. 
Why should I ^vish them back again, in these cold tents of clay? 
A stricken — not a mournful man, — I sigh, but not repine ; 
For my heart is in that land of love, with those I hope to join. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



No fears have we when some delightful child 

Falls from its innocence into the grave ; 

Soon as we know its little breath is gone. 

We see it lying on the Saviour's breast, 

A heavenly flower, there fed with heavenly dew. 

PROFESSOR WILSON. 



Ere the last odorous sigh of May 
That boy laid down beneath the sod ! 
Like dew his young soul passed away 
To mingle v^ith the brighter day 
That veils the Throne of God ! 

J. C. PRINCE. 

**They are without fault before the throne of God." — 
Rev. xiv. 5. 



112 



GONE BEFORE. 



The life ethereal, sublime, 

Wastes not beneath the senseless clod ; 

The folded bud has changed its clime, 

And opens in the light of God ; 

The soul its mortal chrysalis has riven. 

And spreads its wings a seraph bright in heaven. 

REV. HENRY BATCHELOR. 



HAPPINESS OF EARLY DEATH. 

Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb 

In life's happy morning hath hid from our eyes, 
Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, 

Or earth had profaned what was bom for the skies. 
Death chilled the fair fountain ere sorrow had stained it, 

'Twas frozen in all the pure light of its course, 
And but sleeps till the sunshine of heaven has unchained it, 

To water that Eden where first was its source. 

THOMAS MOORE. 



Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear 

That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; 

Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 
And stayed thy progress to the realms of bliss. 

No more confined to grovelling scenes of night, 

No more a tenant pent in mortal clay ; 
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 

And trace thy journey to the realms of day. 

MISS ANNE STEELE. 



SAY NOT TOO EARLY. 

Thy gourd has fallen. Yet had its kindly shade 
Been spared for future years to bless thy bower. 
It would have lived but only to decay. 
Those bursting buds and blossoms, early plucked 



BEREAVEMENT. 



(Say not too early), would at last have dropped 

As withered flowers. Let the Great Husbandman 

Select the time to take His own ; and if 

For transplantation He may deem it fit, 

Before the chilling frosts of life have nipped it, 

Wouldst thou retain it longer in the blasts 

Of an ungenial clime ? Be thine to praise Him, 

That, in selecting for the severing blow, 

He took the ripest for Himself. The tree 

Marked for the axe was not the cnmberer — 

The leafless, fruitless, unproductive one, 

Fit fuel for the fire : no, — it is spared 

(In mercy spared), to see if perad venture 

The sharp incisions of the pruning-knife 

May fructify its boughs. 'Tis the exotic 

Which has been taken to a kindlier soil. 

To bloom unfading in far happier climes, 

"Where tempest is unknown ! Think of the storms 

That tender sapling has in love been saved ; 

Although, perchance, unfretted with a cloud 

Up to the hour it fell ; who could predict 

What might be brooding in the far horizon, — 

What travailings and sorrows might be pent 

Within the womb of time ? Who could foretell 

That ere to-morrow's sun had run his race 

Some hurricane, now slumbering, forth might speed 

In giant might, its footsteps tracked with woe, 

Blighting all loveliness ; reminding us 

That cloudless sunshine trusted cannot be 

On this side heaven ? Then weep not ; but alike 

Adore a * taking" and a giving" God. 

Deem not these blossoms prematurely plucked. 

Let those who make this fleeting earth their all, 

And its horizon bound their happiness, 

Talk of untimely graves ! No flower can drop 

Too soon, if ripe for glory. Early plucked 

Is early bliss. If the great clock of time 

Has in life's dawn of morning tolled its knell, 

And numbered earthly hours, it hasten's heaven. 

An early death -bed is an early crown ! 

I 



114 



GONE BEFORE. 



Now unfulfilled one wish alone remains, — 
That those beloved on earth, endeared by bonds 
Defying dissolution, left behind 
To rough the winter's blast, may soon arise, 
The deathless glory of the soul to share, 
''Not lost, but gone before." 

REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D. 



GONE TO SOME WORLD OF NOBLER LIFE AND 
ACTION. 

I HAVE seen one die, the delight of his friends, the pride 
of his kindred, the hope of his country : but he died ! How 
beautiful was that offering upon the altar of death ! The fire 
of genius kindled in his eye ; the generous affections of youth 
mantled on his cheek ; his foot was upon the threshold of life ; 
his studies, his preparations for honoured and useful life, were 
completed ; his breast was filled with a thousand glowing, and 
noble, and never yet expressed aspirations ; — but he died ! He 
died, while another, of a nature dull, coarse, and unrefined ; of 
habits low, base, and brutish ; of a promise that had nothing in 
it but shame and misery — such a one, I say, was suffered to 
encumber the earth. Could this be, if there were no other 
sphere for the gifted, the aspiring, and the approved, to act in ? 
Can we believe that the energy just trained for action, the em- 
bryo thought just bursting into expression, the deep and earnest 
passion of a noble nature — ^just swelling into the expansion of 
every beautiful virtue, should never speak, should never unfold 
itself ? Can we believe that all this should die ; while meanness, 
corruption, sensuality, and every deformed and dishonoured 
power should live ? No, ye goodly and glorious ones, ye God- 
like in youthful virtue ! — ye die not in pain ; ye teach, ye assure 
us, that ye are gone to some world of nobler life and action. 

REV. ORVILLE DEWEY, D.D. 



Your loss must be severe, but like all God's thunder-showers, 
it sheds refreshment amidst seeming ruin. 

REV. GEO. GILFILLAN. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



HE IS XOT LOST ! 

He is not lost ! though closed those lustrous eyes, 
Though mute those lips, and cold that classic brow 

Though on that face a deepening shadow lies, 
And only that pale form is left us now. 

He is not lost ! though we have laid him low, 

With lo^*ing thoughts stood round his early grave ; 

Though o'er his bier the trembling grass shall grow, 
And the old oak its stately branches wave. 

He is not lost, though we shall lose his smile, 
His ringing laugh, his merr}', harmless jest ; 

No more his fluent lips our cares beguile. 
His sparkling wit amuse our hours of rest. 

His rayless eyes shall kindle now no more 
^Yith mental fire o'er AVisdom's written roll 

Her ample realm his tireless zeal explore. 
Or from her fount refresh his thirsting soul. 

Nothing is lost, for failure cannot be, 
Where wisdom infinite evolves the plan ; 

'Tis but a part, and not the whole we see, — 
In worlds unseen revive things dead to man. 

There is recovered all we mourned as fled — 
There is continued all we deemed as o'er ; 

Theje lived the loved— the lost, though wept as dead 
Their soaring powers restrained by flesh no more. 

Not to no end he lived — though short his day, 
Not fruitless all those wear\- weeks of pain, 

Early matured for heaven, he passed away. 
Nor death he dreaded, when to die was gain. 

His parted soul with pure affection burns, 

No true affection in the dust expires ; 
Warmed by each human love the soul returns^ 

And changes earthly for celestial fires. 



116 



GONE BEFORE. 



His mind, now vested with his garb of light, 
Shines all the brighter for his former toil ; 

Each studied book increased its conscious might, 
And made it richer with fair learning's spoil. 

And that young forai, now wrapt in death's long sleep, 
Waits but the day when God shall say, Restore 1" 

Shall rise in beauty from the m.ould'ring heap — 
Rise to new life, and live to die no more. 

He is not lost ! he lives, he lives for aye ! — 
To these rent hearts this healing hope is given ; 

When from our sight our loved ones pass away, 
All that seems lost to earth is found in heaven ! 

REV. THOMAS HILL. 



YOUNG HE DIED. 

Strength sublime may rise from weakness, 

Groans be turned to songs of praise, 
Nor are life's divinest labours 

Only told by length of days. 
Young he died ; but deeds of mercy 

Beautified his life's short span. 

MARY HOWITT. 



ONLY IN HUMBLE UNQUESTIONING FAITH CAN 
BEREAVED AFFECTION FIND REPOSE. 

It is comparatively easy to bow the heart in resignation when 
the mortal summons calls those away whose heads are grey with 
the snows of age, and who have had full opportunities of useful- 
ness and ample leisure for improvement ; but when we see the 
shadow of death overcast the morning of a young and promising 
existence, it is impossible not to feel that God moves in a dark 
mysterious way, and that only in humble unquestioning faith can 
bereaved affection find repose. 

SAMUEL BISHOP. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



117 



TRANSPLANTED. 

The blossom withered new upon its stalk has been 

transplanted then to a place of endurance, and it will then 
gladden the eye which now weeps out the agony of an affection 
that has been so sorely wounded ; and in the name of Him who, 
if on earth, would have wept along with them, do we bid all 
believers to sorrow not even as others who have no hope, but to 
take comfort in the thought of that country where there is no 
sorrow and no separation. 

DR. CHALMERS. 



THE HEALER WAS THERE ! 

I SAW when a father and mother had leaned 

On the arms of a dear cherished son, 
And the star in the future grew bright in their gaze 

As they saw the proud place he had won ; 
And the fast coming evening of life promised fair, 

And its pathway grew smooth to their feet ; 
And the starlight of love glimmered bright to the end, 

And the whispers of fancy were sweet ; 
But I saw when they stood bending low o'er the grave, 

Where their hearts' dearest- hope had been laid ; 
And the star had gone down in the darkness of night 

And joy from their bosoms had fled : 
But the Healer was there, and His arms were around, 

And He led them with tenderest care ; 
And He showed them a star in the bright upper world, 

'Twas their star shining brilliantly there. 
They had each heard a voice : 'twas the voice of their God, 
I love thee — I love thee — pass under the rod." 

M. S. B. DANA. 

TEARS FELL WHEN THOU WERT DYING. 

Green be the turf above thee, 

Son of my better days ! 
None knew thee but to love thee ! 

None named thee but to praise ! 



118 



GONE BEFORE. 



Tears fell when thou wert dying, 

From eyes unused to weep : 
And long where thou art lying 

Will tears the cold turf steep. 
While memory bids' me weep thee, 

Nor thoughts nor words are free ; 
The grief is fixed too deeply, 
That mourns a lad like thee ! 

HALLECK. 



GRIEF BECOMES FOR VERY REVERENCE, MUTE . 

No tears ; for Death 
Saw thee when loveliest, and his icy touch 
Preserves thy look for ever. It is well : 
The only things that change not are the dead. 
Now thou art safe from Time's defacing hand. 
From staling custom, and, sadder far than all, 
From human fickleness. In after years. 
It might be, I would scarce have followed thee 
A mourner to the grave. Thou art so fair, 
That, gazing on thee, clamorous grief becomes, 
For very reverence, mute. If mighty Death 
Made our rude human faces by his touch 
Divinely fair as thine, O never more 
Would strong hearts break o'er briars. There sleeps 
to-night 

A sacred sweetness on thy silent lips, 
A solemn light upon thy ample brow, 
That I can never, never hope to find 
Upon a living face. 

ALEXANDER SMITH. 



DIE WITH ALL THE SUNSHINE ON HER. 
Ah ! that is sad : and yet perhaps 'tis better 
That she should die with all the sunshine on her, 
And all the benedictions of the morning. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



119 



Before this affluence of golden light 
Shall fall into a cold and clouded grey, 
Then into darkness. 

LONGFELLOW. 

For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God : 
when Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also ap- 
pear with Him in glory. — Col. iii. 3, 4. 



THE FLOWERETS FROM YOUTH'S CHAPLET FELL. 

She was a sunbeam in the storm, — 

A star that gently lifted 
Above the dark its beauteous form, 

When the dull tempest shifted. 
She loved — that passion like a spell 

With her young dreams was blended : 
The flowerets from youth's chaplet fell 

Before her spring-time ended. 
In yon churchyard the flowers are fair 

Beneath heaven's blue expansion, 
But a sweeter gem is lying there. 

In dark oblivion's mansion ; 
The bud of promise to all eyes — 

O'er whom the wild wind dashes, — ■ 
But she shall flourish in the skies, 

When stars and worlds are ashes. 

DUGALD MOORE. 



DEATH BROUGHT LIFE'S PEACE. 
She faded, like the summer flower 

When parching sunshine bums. 
And no fresh dews, no cooling shower, 

Seared grass to greenness turns. 
She faded, — and I marked how swift 

Death's shado\^7" mist crept o'er her, 
As dark clouds o'er the bright mom drift. 

But do not pass before her. 



120 



GONE BEFORE. 



She faded day by day ! at last 

No lily was more wan ; 
I knew that all my joy had past, 

Just as her joy began. 
I knew that death to her would bring 

Life's peace — to last for ever. 
She faded — but in heaven her spring 

Of bloom shall perish never ! 

MAJOR CALDER CAMPBELL. 



EARTH HAS ONE ANGEL LESS, AND HEAVEN / 
ONE MORE. 

She is gone ! — no longer shrinking from the winter wind, or 
lifting her calm pure forehead to the summer's kiss ; no longer 
gazing with her blue and glorious eyes into a far-off sky ; no 
longer yearning with a holy heart for heaven ; no longer toiling 
painfully along the path, upward and upward, to the everlasting 
rock on which are based the walls of the city of the Most High ; 
no longer here, she is there ; gazing, seeing, knowing, loving, 
as the blessed only see, and know, and love. Earth has one 
angel less, and heaven one more, since yesterday. Already, 
kneeling at the throne, she has received her welcome, and is 
resting on the bosom of her Saviour. If human love have power 
to penetrate the veil (and hath it not ? ), then there are yet living 
here a few, who have the blessedness of knowing that an angel 
loves them, 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORN. 



GO, BEAUTY, REST FOR AYE. 
Did I not love thee too, pure perfect thing ? 
This is a soul I see, and not a body. 
Go, beauty, rest for aye ; go, starry eyes. 
And lips like rosebuds peeping out of snow ; 
Go, breast love-filled as a boat's sail with wind, 
Leaping from wave to wave as leaps a child, 



BEREAVEMENT. 



121 



Thoughtless, o'er grassy graves ; go, locks which have 

The golden embrownment of a lion's eye. 

Yet one more look ; farewell, thou well and fair ! 

All who but loved thee shall be deathless. Nought 

Named if ^^dth thee can perish. Thou and death 

Have made each other purer, lovelier seem. 

Like snow and moonlight. Never more for thee 

Let eyes be swollen, like streams with, latter rains. 

To die were rapture, having lived with thee. 

Thy soul hath passed out of a bodily heaven, 

Into a spiritual. Rest for aye. 

Pure after love as e'er thou wast before, 

Pure as the dead in life. The dead are holy : 

I would I were among them. 

P. J. BAILEY. 



FIT FOR THE EYE OF GOD. 

Rest, weary dust, lie here an hour ; 

Ere long, like blossoms from the sod. 
Thou shalt come forth a glorious flower, 

Fit for the eye of God. 

REV. HORATIUS BONAR. 



ALMOST MOCKERY TO WEEP. 

In life itself she was so still and fair. 

That death with gentler aspect withered there ; 

And the cold flowers her colder hand contained 

In that last grasp so tenderly were strained 

As if she scarcely felt, but feigned a sleep, 

And made it almost mockery to weep. 

A parting pang, — the spirit from her past ; 

And they who watched her nearest could not know 

The very instant, till the change that cast 

Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow, 

LORD BYRON. 

^ 



122 



GONE BEFORE. 



GOD HATH TAKEX HOME HIS CHILD. 
O HALF we deemed she needed not 

The changing of her sphere, 
To give to heaven a shining one, 

Who walked an angel here. 
Alone unto our Father's vnR 

One thought half reconciled, — 
That He, whose love exceedeth ours, 

Hath taken home His child. 

Still may her mild rebuking stand 

Between us and the wrong, 
And her dear memor}^ serve to make 

Our faith in goodness strong. 

J. G. WHITTIER. 

WE WHO SO LOVED HER, LEAVE HER— FOR 
A WHILE. 

All the absorbing beauty of her form, 
The mellowing sweetness of her quickening mind 
The glorious issue of a heart of love, — 
All, all transformed at thy grim presence. 
Death ! 

No watched decay and no denoted change ; 
No fading cheek, no lustre-lacking eye ; 
Nor any laughter wanting to our mirth ! 
And thy chill cr}- rings on our sleeping ears, 
6 Death I 

Coiled at our feet in sweet obedient love 
Caught to our hearts, her failings all forgot, 
A tyrant in her beauty ! now so still, 
Lpng so mute, so patient in thy thrall, 
Terrible death ! 

E'en now the drowsy hush of summer leaves 
A slumbrous calm about her fitly keeps : 
We who so loved her, leave her for a while. 
Leave her to thy long cherishing, death ; 
O gentle death ! 

\VM. SAWYER. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



123 



PALE AND LIFELESS. 

Pale and lifeless, there 
She lies, whose looks were love, whose beauty smiled 
The sweet eifalgence of endearing virtue. 

THOMSON. 



ONLY A TRANSIENT STAY. 

But think not, grave, that we resign 
This treasure as for ever thine ; 
We only ask a transient stay, 
Till heaven unfolds eternal day ! 
Then shall this mould'ring frame of flesh 
Spring forth in blooming life afresh, 
And Death, that swallows all, shall be 
Swallowed himself in victory ! 

GIBBONS. 



WHEREFORE DO WE WEEP. 

Low she lies, who blest our eyes 

Through many a sunny day ; 
She may not smile, she will not rise, 

The life hath passed away ! 
Yet there's a world of light beyond, 

Where we neither die nor sleep ; 
She is there^ of whom our souls were fond, 

Then wherefore do we weep ? 

The heart is cold, whose thoughts were told 

In each glance of her glad bright eye ; 
And she lies pale, who was so bright, 

She scarce seemed made to die. 
Yet we know that her soul is happy now, 

Where the saints their calm watch keep ; 
That angels are crowning that fair young brow. 

Then wherefore do we weep ? 



124 



GONE BEFORE. 



Her laughing voice made all rejoice 

Who caught the happy sound ; 
There was gladness in her very step, 

As it lightly touched the ground. 
The echoes of voice and step are gone ; 

There is silence still and deep : 
Yet v^e know she sings by God's bright throne, 

Then wherefore do we weep ? 

The cheek's pale tinge, the lid's dark fringe. 

That lies like a shadow there, 
Were beautiful in the eyes of all, 

And her glossy golden hair ! 
But though that lid may never wake 

From its dark and dreamless sleep ; 
She is gone where young hearts do not break, 

Then wherefore do we weep ? 

That world of light with joy is bright. 

This is a world of woe : — 
Shall we grieve that her soul hath taken flight, 

Because we dwell below ? 
We vnll bury her under the mossy sod, 

And one long bright tress we'll keep : 
We have only given her back to God, 
Ah ! wherefore do we weep ? 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 



THE ANGELS HAIL AN ADDED FLOWER OF 
LOVE. 

We call them ours, o'erw^pt with selfish tears, 
O'erwatched with restless longings night and day ; 

Forgetful of the high, mysterious right 
He holds to bear our cherished plants away. 

But when some sunny spot in those bright fields 
Needs the fair presence of an added flower, 

Down sweeps a starry angel in the ni^ht ; — 
At mom the rose has vanished from our bower. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



125 



Where stood our tree, our flower, there is a grave ! 

Blank, silent, vacant, but in worlds above- 
Like a new star outblossomed in the skies — 

The angels hail an added flower of love. 

Dear friend, no more upon that lonely mound, 
Strewed with the red and yellow autumn leaf, 

Drop thou the tear, but raise the fainting eye 
Beyond the autumn mists of earthly grief. 

Thy garden rosebud bore within its breast 
Those mysteries of colour, warm and bright, 

That the bleak climate of this lower sphere 
Could never waken into form and light. 

Yes, the good Gardener has borne her hence, 
Nor must thou ask to take her thence away ; 

Thou shalt behold her in some coming hour. 
Full-blossomed in His fields of cloudless day ! 

MRS. H. B. STOWE. 



GOD CULLS THE YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL. 

He with timely hand prevented now 
The sad season of their A\dthering, 

Culled them in the glory of their prime. 
Ere their fresh delight had taken wing, — - 

Culled the young and beautiful, and laid 
In his bosom gently, home to bring. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



GONE. 

My strength fails, 

My heart is stopped — oh, Father ! 

Speak again ! 

She's dead ! — Is death so short a ceremony? 
'Tis but one pang — one moment's deeper faint 
And nothing more. Kate, do you hear me, Kate ? 



126 



GONE BEFORE. 



Not all the air that floats 'twixt this and heaven 
Can lend her one short breath ; no, not so much 
As would make up a sigh to answer me. 

S. HAYNES. 



She's cold already ! Her lips are lovely still : 

The buds, though gathered, keep their damask colours. 

N. LEE. 

SORROWING FOR THAT GIFT OF HEAVEN. 

Rejoice for her that when the garland of her life 
Was blighted, and the springs of hope were dried, 
Received her summons hence, and had no time, 
Bearing the canker at the impatient heart, 
To wither, sorrowing for that gift of heaven, 
Which lent one moment of existence light, 
That dimmed the rest for ever ! 

MRS. HExMANS. 



Like a passing thought^ she fled 
In light away. 

ROBERT BURNS. 

HER SOUL WAS WHISPERED OUT. 
So softly death succeeded life in her, 
She did but dream of heaven, and she was there. 
No pains she suffered, nor expired with noise ; 
Her soul was whispered out with God's still voice. 

DRYDEN. 



WITHIN THE ETERNAL PRESENCE. 
My happy boy ! and murmur I that death 
Over thy young and buoyant frame hath power ? 



BEREAVEMENT. 



127 



In yon bright land love never perisheth, 
H6pe may not mock, nor grief the heart devour. 
The beautiful are round thee : thou dost keep 
Within the eternal presence ; and no more 
May'st death, or pain, or separation dread : 
Thy bright eyes cannot weep, 
Xor they vriih whom thou art thy loss deplore ; 
For ye are of the lining, not the dead. 

Thou dweller -v^dth the unseen, who hast explored 
The immense unkno^Tn ; thou, to whom death and heaven 

AiQ mysteries no more ; whose soul is stored 
With knowledge for which man hath vainly striven ; 
Beloved child, oh ! when shall I lie do^vn 

With thee beneath fair trees that cannot fade ? 

AMien from the immortal rivers quench my thirst ? 
Life's journey speedeth on ; 

Yet for a little while we walk in shade ; 
Anon by death the cloud is all dispersed. 

Then o'er the hills of heaven the eternal day doth burst. 

PROFESSOR WILSON. 

THE BRIGHTEST SOULS ARE SOONEST GONE. 

The brightest blossom soonest dies. 
The purest dew will early rise 

To mingle with the viewless air ; 
The fairest rose will soon decay, 
The softest beauty pass away, 

And all be dark and lonely there. 

The brightest souls are soonest gone. 
The proudest race is quickest won, 

And genius finds in youth a grave ; 
The hand that sent it from above 
Recalls it in its fondest love, 

And takes the choicest gift it gave. 



128 



GONE BEFORE. 



Mind cannot linger long below, 
And keep unstained its virgin snow. ; 

Earth ^^sill assert its base control : 
Happy the life that soon is o'er, 
Pain ne"er can bow the spirit more, 

Nor force can crush the tender soul. 

A few short years, but oh I how bright 
With pure, serene, and mellow light ! 

No hour, no moment, spent in vain ; 
Better than base eternity 
To live these transient years, like thee, 

In light, and die without a stain. 

J.^IES GATES PERCIVAL. 



These were redeemed from among men, being the first-fruits 
unto God and to the Lamb. — Rev. xiv. 4. 



LAY HER GENTLY IN THE ELOWEREUL MOULD. 

Slowly and softly let the music go 

As ye wind upwards to the gray church tower. 
Check the shrill hautboy, let the pipe breathe low, 

Tread lightly on the pathside daisy flower, 
For she ye cany was a gentle bud, 

Loved by the unsunned drops of silver dew 
Her voice was like the whisper of the wood 

In prime of even, when the stars are few. 
Lay her aU gently in the flowerful mould, 

^Veep -^dth her one brief hour, then turn away, 
Go to hope's prison, and from out the cold 

And solitar}^ gratings many a day 
Look forth : 'tis said the world is gro\ving old. 

And streaks of orient light in time's horizon play. 

DEAN ALFORD. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



HER VOICE HATH PASSED AWAY ! 

Go forth, for she is gone ! 
With the golden light of her wavy hair, 
She is gone to the fields of the viewless air, 

She hath left her dwelling lone ! 

Her voice hath passed away ! 
It hath passed away like a summer breeze. 
When it leaves the hills for the far blue seas, 

Where we may not trace its way. 

Go forth, and, like her, be free ! 
With thy radiant wing, and thy glo\nng eye ; 
Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky, 

And what is our grief to thee ? 

Is it aught even to her we mourn ? 
Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed ? 
Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head. 

Or float, on the light wind borne ? 

We know not, but she is gone ! 
Her step from the dance, her voice from the song, 
And the smile of her eye from the festal throng ; 

She hath left her dwelling lone. 

When the waves at sunset shine. 
We may hear thy voice, amidst thousands more, 
In the scented woods of our glowing shore ; 

But we shall not know 'tis thine ! 

Even so \^ath the loved one ^ovm ! 
Her smile in the starlight may wander by. 
Her breath may be near in the mnd's low sigh, 

Around us, but all unkno\^^l. 

Go forth, we have loosed thy chain ! 
We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers 
Which the bright day rears in her eastern bowers ; 

But thou wilt not be lured again. 

K 



GONE BEFORE. 



Even thus may the summer pour 
All fragrant things on the land's green breast, 
And the glorious earth like a bride be dressed ; 

But it ^^'ins her back no more ! 

MRS. HEMAXS. 



NO MORE SHE HEARS. 

No more she hears, where vines adorn 

Her window, on the boughs 

Birds chirrup an arouse : 
Flies, buzzing, strengthening with the morn, 

She will not hear again 

At random strike the pane.: 
No more on grass-plat newly shorn 

With her go\^Ti's glancing hem 

Bend down the daisy's stem, 
In walking forth to \-iew what flowers are borne. 

THOMAS WOOLNER. 



A FATHER'S GRIEF. 

To trace the bright rose, fading fast 

From a fair daughter's cheek ; 
To read upon her pensive brow 

The fears she will not speak ; 
To mark that deep and sudden flush, 

So beautiful and brief, 
Which tells the progress of decay — 

This is a Father's grief. 

^^^len languor from her joyless couch, 

Hath scared sweet sleep away. 
And heaviness that comes with night, 

Departs not with the day ; 
To meet the fond endearing smile, 

That seeks, with false relief. 
Awhile to calm his bursting heart — 

This is a Father's giief. 



BEREAVEMENT 



131 



To listen where her gentle voice 

Its welcome music shed, 
And find within his lonely halls 

The silence of the dead ; 
To look, unconsciously, for her, 

The chosen and the chief 
Of earthly joys— and look in vain— = 

This is a Father's grief. 

To stand beside the sufferer's couch, 

While life is ebbing fast ; 
To mark that once illumined eye 

With death's dull film o'ercast ; — 
To watch the struggles of the frame 

When earth has no relief, 
And hopes to heaven are breathed in vain-= 

This is a Father's grief. 

And not when that dread hour is past, 

And life is pain no more — 
Not when the dreary tomb hath closed 

O'er her so loved before, 
Not then does kind oblivion come 

To lend his woes relief. 
But with him to the grave he bears 

A Father's rooted grief. 

For, oh ! to dry a mother's tears, 
Another babe may bloom : 

But what remains on earth for him 
Whose last is in the tomb ? 

To think his child is blessed above- 
To hope their parting brief, — 

These, these may soothe — but death alone 
Can heal a Father's grief. 

CANON DALE. 

SORROW, LOVE'S DEEPEST SPOKESMAN. 

I THOUGHT our love at full, but I did err; 

Joy's wreath drooped o'er mine eyes ; I could not see 



132 



GONE BEFORE. 



That sorrow in our happy world must be 
Love's deepest spokesman and interpreter ; 
But, as a mother feels her child first stir 
Within her heart, so felt I instantly- 
Deep in my soul another bond to thee 
Thrill with that life we saw depart from her ; 
O mother of our angel child ! twice dear ! 
Death knits as well as parts, and still, I wis, 
Her tender radiance shall enfold us here, 
Even as the light, borne up by inward bliss, 
Threads the void glooms of space without a fear, 
To print on farthest stars her pitying kiss. 

J. R. LOWELL. 



THE SPIRIT TO ITS HOME ABOVE RETURNS 
AGAIN. 

There is a soft retiring light 

In her blue eye. 
Like some sweet star that glances far 

Through the still sky. 
Then springs into the liquid air 
Of heaven, as if its home were there. 

There is a hue upon her cheek, 

That comes and goes : 
One moment 'tis the blushing streak 

That dyes the rose ; 
A spirit breathes upon her brow. 
And she is calm and pale — as now. 

And music, softly, sweetly wild, 

Is in her tone — 
The distant voice of some sweet child 

Singing alone. 
As resting from Its joyous play 
By a bright streamlet far away. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



133 



I gaze upon her, — not in love, 

For love is vain I 
The spirit to its home above 

Returns again ; 
And hers has only v\^andered here 
To dwell awhile, and disappear ! 

I gaze upon her — not in grief, 

• But half in gladness ; 
And feel it is a kind relief 
To my life's sadness, 
To whisper as she passes, thus, — 
" Sweet spirit, thou art not of us." 

MRS. HEMANS. 



SHE TO HEAVEN HAS PASSED, 

Softly ! 
She is lying 

With her lips apart. 
Softly ! 
She is dying 

Of a broken heart. 

Whisper ! 
She is going 

To her final rest. 
Whisper 1 
Life is growing 

Dim within her breast. 

Gently ! 
She is sleeping, 

She has breathed her last. 
Gently ! 
While you are weeping 
She to heaven has pass'd ! 

CHAS. GAMAGE EASTMAN. 



GONE BEFORE. 



ONLY A LOCK OF HAIR. 

Only a spark from love's dear shrine, 

Whose altar fires are dead ; 
Only a tress whose silken sheen 

Once cro^^^l'd a lovely head. 
Only a token wrapp'd away, 

Of happier days that were, 
Long vanished from my wistful gaze, 

Only a lock of hair. 

Only one link, a link of gold, 

Between the past and me ; 
One tender leaflet fluttr'ing still 

Upon a bhghted tree. 
Only a relic dim with tears. 

Of what was once so fair — 
The image sweet of life in death, 

Only a lock of hair. 

Of what was once my all in all. 

But these sad links remain. 
To bind me now and evermore 

Within their silken chain. 
Poor token of a faded past. 

Dim relic once so fair, 
To lie upon my lonely heart. 

Only a lock of hair. 

HON. MRS. GIFFORD. 



HEAVEN, I KNOW, RECEIVED THE SOUL. 

Heaven, I know. 
Received the soul, and the eternal beauty 
Embayed within its arms the mortal fair. 
The golden and the gorgeous loveliness — 
A sunset beauty ! Ah ! I saw it set. 
My heart, alas ! set with it. I have drained 
Life of all love, as doth an iron rod 



BEREAVEMENT. 



135 



The heavens of lightning ! I have done with it, 
And all its wakmg woes and dreams of joys. 
No more shall beauty star the air I live m ; 
And no more will I wake at dead of night, 
And hearken to the roaring of the wind, 
As though it came to carry one away. 

P. J. BAILEY. 



WEEP NO MORE. 
Weep no more, lady, weep no more. 

Thy sorrow is in vain, 
For, violeis plucked^ the sweetest showers 

Will 7ie^er ?nake graiv again, 

DR. PERCY. 



WEEP NOT FOR HER. 
Weep not for her I — O she was far too fair, 

Too pure to dwell on this guilt-tainted earth ! 
The sinless glory, and the golden air 

Of Zion, seemed to claim her from her birth ! 
A spirit wandering from its native zone, 
Which, soon discovering, took her for its own : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her I — Her span was like the sky ; 

Whose thousand stars shine beautiful and bright ; 
Like flowers that know not what it is 1o die I 

Like long-link'd shadeless months of Polar light ; 
Like music floating o'er a waveless lake, 
While echo answers from the flowery brake : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her !— She died in early youth, 
Ere hope had lost its rich romantic hues ; 

When human bosoms seem'd the homes of tmth, 
And earth still gleam'd with beauty's radiant dews. 

Her summer-prime waned not to days that freeze ; 

Her wme of life was run not to the lees : 
Weep not for her ! 



GONE BEFORE. 



Weep not for her !— By fleet or slow decay, 
It never grieved her bosom's core to mark 

The playmates of her childhood wane away, 

Her prospects \Wther ; or her hopes grow dark ; 

Translated by her God, with spirit shriven, 

She passed as 'twere in smiles from earth to heaven. 

Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her I — It was not hers to feel 
The miseries that corrode amassing years. 

Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, 
To wander sad, do\^Ti Age^s va,le of tears. 

As whirl the withered leaves from friendship's tree, 

And on earth's wintry world alone to be : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! — She is an angel now, 
And treads the sapphire floors of paradise. 

All darkness wdped from her refulgent brow, 
Sin, sorrow, suffering, banished from her eyes ; 

Victorious over death, to her appear 

The vista'djoys of heaven's eternal year : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! — Her memory is the shrine 
Of pleasing thoughts, soft as the scent of flowers, 

Calm as on windless eve the sun's decline. 

Sweet as the song of birds among the bowers ; 

Rich as a rainbow with its hues of light, 

Pure as the moonshine of an autumn night : 
Weep not for her ! 

Weep not for her ! — There is no cause for woe ; 

But rather nerve the spirit, that it walk 
Unshrinking o'er the thorny paths below; 

And from earth's low defilements keep thee back; 
So, when a few fleet severing years have flo\\Ti, 
She'll meet thee at heaven's gate— and lead thee on ! 

Weep not for her ! 

D. M. MOIR. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



137 



SHE FADED SLOWLY. 

Her marble brow 
Was pure, as though some angel wing had pass'd 
And swept all tints of earthliness away. 
She faded slowly, softly from the earth, 
And died, as some sWeet blossom dies away, 
Shedding a heavenly incense to the last. 

MRS. C. A. CHAMBERLAIN. 



SHE IS IN HER GRAVE. 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways 

Beside the spring of Dove ; 
A maid, whom there were none to praise, 

And very few to love. 

A violet^ by a mossy stone 

Half hidden from the eye ; 
Fair as a star, when only one 

Is shining in the sky. 

She lived unknown ; and few could know 

When Lucy ceased to be : 
But she is in her grave, and oh ! 

The difference to me ! 

WORDSWORTH. 



ONE WHOM GOD HATH TAKEN. 

For ever shall she be in praise, 

(By wise or good forsaken ;) 
Named softly, as the household name 

Of one whom God hath taken. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



138 



GONE BEFORE. 



HER SOUL FLASHED BACK A GLIMPSE OF BLISS ! 

The mystery dilated in her look 
"Which, on the darkening death-ground, faintly caught 
The likeness of the Angel shining near ; 
Her passing soul flashed back a glimpse of bhss ! 

GERALD MASSEY. 



SHE LIVES IN GLORY. 

She died in beauty, like a rose blo\^TL from its parent stem ; 

She died in beauty, like a pearl dropp'd from some diadem ; 

She died in beauty, like a ray along a moonlit lake ; 

She died in beauty, like the song of birds amid the brake ; 

She died in beauty, like the snow on flowers dissolved away ; 

She died in beauty, like a star lost on the brow of day ; 

She lives in gloiy, like Night's gems set round the silver moon ; 

She lives in glory, like the sun amid the blue of June. 

SILLERY. 



I'D FAIN THINK YE'RE GANE BUT TO SLEEP, 

Fareweel my wee lassie, fareweel, 
Ye were dear as the licht to mine e'e, 

And nae ane can ken what I feel 
In this sorrowfu' parting m' thee. 

A welcome wee stranger thou wert. 

But ye didna bide lang wi' us here, 
Ye came like the spring to my heart, 
But ye left it all withered and sere. 

Ah ! Mary, I canna but weep, 

For my heart was sae wrapt up in thee, 

I'd fain think ye 're gane but to sleep, 
And ye'll come once again to my knee. 

Oh, thou wert- a beam of delight 

Which sae lighted my heart up wi' joy, 
I ne'er thought ye'd fade from my sight, 
^ Or that death would come to destroy. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



139 



And the bairns are a' -vreepin' for thee. 

For they've lost their wee pla}-mate an' a', 
And Johnnie creeps up on my knee 

And he asks if ye'll aye be awa'. 

\Miat though to forget thee I trv', 

And the words that ye hspit to me, 
The streams o' this heart winna dry, 

And all nature's the memory o' thee. 

The svreet little birdies that sing, 

And the innocent lamb on the lee. 
The bonnie wee flowers o" the Spring 

Are a' but faint shadows o' thee. 

If this weary world is all, 

If in gladness we'll meet not again, 
Let nature be wrapt in a pall, 

For aflection and beauty are vain, 

ALEX. MCLACHLAX. 



THOU TOOK'ST THEM AVHILE UXCHAXGED. 

We, O Father, standing Thee before, 
Do lay dov,Ti at Thy feet v-nthout a sigh 
Each after each our precious things and rare, 
Our dear heart-jewels and our garlands tair= 
Perhaps Thou knewest that the flowers would die, 
And the long-voyaged hoards be found but dust . 
So took'st them, while unchanged. To Thee we trust 
For incorruptible treasure ; Thou art just. 

DINAH MULOCH. 



THE BLESSED FRUITS OF EARLV DEATH. 
When death strikes down the innocent and young. 
From every fragile form from which he lets 
The parting spirit free, 
A hundred Mrtues nse, 



140 GONE BEFORE. 

In shapes of mercy, charity, and love, 
To walk the world and bless it. 
Of every tear 
That sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, 
Some good is bom, some gentler nature comes. 

CHAS. DICKENS. 



BUT SHE DIED. 

I HAVE seen one die ; she was beautiful ; and beautiful were 
the ministries of life that were given her to fulfil. Angelic 
loveliness enrobed her ; and a grace, as if it were caught from 
heaven, breathed in every tone, hallowed every affection, shone 
in every action, invested, as a halo, her whole existence, and 
made it a light and blessing, a charm and a vision of glad- 
ness to all around her : but she died ! Friendship, and love, 
and parental fondness, and infant weakness, stretched out their 
hands to save her ; but they could not save her ; and she died ! 
^Yhat ! did all that loveliness die ? Is there no land of the 
blessed and the lovely ones, for such to live in ? Forbid it 
reason ! religion ! bereaved affection, and undying love ! forbid 
the thought ! It cannot be that such die in God's counsel who 
live, even in the frail human memory, for ever ! 

*'I cannot deem thee dead ! like the perfumes 

Arising from Judea's vanished shrines 
Thy voice still floats around me, nor can tombs 

A thousand, from my memory hide the lines 
Of beauty, on thine aspect which abode 
Like streaks of sunshine pictured there by God. " 

REV. ORVILLE DEWEY, D.D. 



GOD KEEPS A NICHE IN HEAVEN TO HOLD 
OUR IDOLS. 

O BELOVED voices, upon which 

Ours passionately call because ere long 

Ye break off in the middle of that song 



BEREAVEMENT. 



141 



Ye sang together softly to enrich 

The poor world with the sense of love, and witch 

The heart out of things evil. I am strong, 

Knowing ye are not lost for aye among 

The hills, with last year's thrush. God keeps a niche 

In heaven to hold our idols : and albeit 

He brake them to our faces and denied 

That our close kisses should impair their white, 

I know we shall behold them raised, complete, 

The dust swept from their beauty, glorified 

New Memnons singing in the great God-light. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING, 



I AM CONTENT TO WAIT. 

I HAD a message to send her ; 

To her whom my soul loves best ; 
But I had my task to finish, 

And she had gone to rest : 
To rest in the far bright heaven. 

Oh ! so far away from here ! 
It was vain to speak to my darling, 

For I knew she could not hear. 

I had a message to send her. 

So tender, and true, and sweet, 
I longed for an angel to hear it, 

And lay it down at her feet. 
I placed it, one summer's evening 

On a little white cloud's breast. 
But it faded in golden splendour. 

And died in the crimson west. 

I gave it the lark next morning, 

And I watehed it soar and soar ; 
But its pinions grew faint and weary, 

And it fluttered to earth once more. 
I cried in my passionate longing, 

Has the earth no angel friend 
Who will carry my love the message 

My heart desires to send ? 



142 



GONE BEFORE. 



Then I heard a strain of music, 

So mighty, so pure, so dear, 
That my very sorrow was silent, 

And my heart stood still to hear. 
It rose in harmonious rushing 

Of mingled voices and strings, 
And I tenderly laid my message 

On music's outspread wings. 

And I heard it float farther and farther. 
In sound more perfect than speech, 

Farther than sight can follow, 
Farther than soul can reach. 

And I know that at last my message 
Has passed through the golden gate ; 

So my heart is no longer restless, 
* And I am content to wait. 

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. 



LOOSED BY THE HAND OF GOD. 

Dying ; still slowly dying 

As the hours of night rode by, 
She had lain since the light of sunset 

Was red in the evening sky ; 
Till after the middle watches, 

As we softly near her trod. 
When her soul from its prison fetters 

Was loosed by the hand of God. 

One moment her pale lips trembled 

With the triumph she might not tell, 
As the sight of her life immortal 

On her spirit's vision fell ; ■. 
Then the look of rapture faded. 

And the beautiful smile was faint. 
As that in some ancient picture 

On the face of a dying saint. 



BEREAVE^^IEXT. 



143 



And we felt in the lonesome midnight, 

As we sat by the silent dead, 
What a light on the path going do^vn wards 

The feet of the righteous shed ; 
When we thought how, with faith unshrinking, 

She came to the Jordan's tide : 
And, taking the hand of the Saviour 

Went up on the heavenly side. 

PHCEBE CAREY. 



HEAVEN WAS NEAR. 

What is it that sometimes speaks in the soul so calmly, so 
clearly, that its earthly time is short ? Is it the secret instinct of 
decaying nature, on the soul's impulsive throb, as immortality 
draws on ? Be it what it may, it rested in the heart in a calm, 
sweet, prophetic certainty that heaven was near ; calm, as the 
light of sunset, sweet as the bright stillness of autumn. There 
her heart reposed, only troubled by sorrow for those who loved 
her so dearly. 

MRS. H, B. STOWE. 



Her sufferings ended with the day ! 

Yet lived she at its close, 
And breathed the long, long night away 

In statue-like repose. 

But when the sun in all his state 

Illumed the eastern skies,- 
She passed through glory's morning gate, 

And walked in Paradise. 

JAMES ALDRICH. 



144 GONE BEFORE. 

'TIS EVER THUS. 

'Tis ever thus, 'tis ever thus, when hope hath built a bower, 
Like that of Eden, wreathed about with every thomless flov\-er, 
To dwell therein securely the self-deceiver's trust ; 
A whirhnnd from the desert comes, and all is in the dust. 

'Tis ever thus, 'tis ever thus, that when the poor heart clings, 
^Yith all its finest tendrils, with all its flexile rings, 
That goodly thing it cleaveth to, so fondly and so fast, 
Is struck to earth by lightning, or shattered by the blast. 

'Tis ever thus, 'tis ever thus, with beams of mortal bliss, 
With looks too bright and beautiful for such a world as this ; 
One moment round about us, their angel- lightnings play, 
Then down the veil of darkness drops, and all hath passed away. 

'Tis ever thus, 'tis ever thus, with sounds too sweet for earth. 
Seraphic sounds that float away (borne heavenward) in their birth, 
The golden shell is broken, the silver cord is mute, 
The sweet bells all are silent, and hushed the lovely lute. 

'Tis ever thus, 'tis ever thus, with all that's best below ; 
The dearest, noblest, loveliest, are always first to go ; 
The bird that sings the sweetest, the pine that croTOS the rock, 
The glory of the garden, the flower of the flock. 

'Tis ever thus, 'tis ever thus, with creatures heavenly fair. 
Too finely framed to bide the brunt more earthly natures bear ; 
A little while they dwell with us, blest ministers of love ; 
Then spread the wings we had not seen, and seek their home 
above. 

CAROLINE BOWLES. 



WHEN SOME BELOVED VOICE FAILETH 
SUDDENLY. 

When some beloved voice, that was to you 
Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly, 
And silence against which you dare not cry. 
Aches round you like a strong disease and new — 
What hope, what help, what music will undo 
That silence to your sense ? 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



145 



OUR DYING FRIENDS ARE PIONEERS. 

Our dying friends are pioneers to smoothe 
Our rugged path to death, to break those bars 
Of terror and abhorrence nature throws 
'Cross our obstructed way, and thus to make 
Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. 

EDWARD YOUXG. 

And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd 
Above the clouds, as high as Heaven itself ? 

SHAKESPEARE. 

'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose 
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 
How grows in paradise our store. 

REV. JOHN KEBLE. 



IT COMES TENDERLY AS MERCY'S SELF. 

But, oh, this mysterious Death ! This God's doom on sin I 
I have never seen its approach before, and tho' it comes tenderly 
as mercy's self, on the mortal face there is, t/m-e is the seal of 
punishment, of vague regret, of mute, helpless resignation. The 
lips murmur, Thy ^^^ll be done," but the soul receives its 
warning of change with tremulous awe, — and is it not most meet ? 
The spirit bows to the stem, just sentence, but the body cannot re- 
joice m suffering its dire penalty. 

\Vhat visions are revealed to the eyes of the dying ? ^Yhat 
voices sound in their ears unheard of us, still far from the shores 
eternal ? What mean those beckonings in the air ? Who calls 
when my mother answers so quick and clear, Yes, I avi 
co7?iing^'t Are those who have gone before sent back thro' 
the Yalley of the Shadow of Death, to bear her company by 
what we have been used to think a dark and lonely way ? AYill 
that way be dark ? Will it be lonely at all ? or cheered by the 
old friends and kinsfolk gathered to welcome a ncAV comer to 
Christ's kingdom as to a Christmas festival ? 

In gentle sleep our mother passes away, and for us is left the 
L 



U6 



GONE BEFORE. 



grotesque — pathetic medley of life and death ; the darkened 
house, the suppressed hurry and confusion of all great changes. 
The vigil has been long ; the strain of it aches in my heart now 
as it never did \^-hile we kept it. I should like to stray out in the 
sun ; I should like to draw a long breath in the pure September 
air and feel my natural self again, — and she would bid me go 
and be refreshed, I know ; but that must not be, says cold 
custom, till she is laid in mould. 

And so we make the last journey all together thro' the streets 
when the day looks so garish and the faces are all so blank ; where 
in a narrow way. a wain high piled with harvest-sheaves draws 
aside, and stands to the wall, that the other wain with its one 
shock of ripe corn gathered and garnished for God may pass by 
solemnly and unstayed. The old burial-gi'ound in the suburbs 
has long been closed, and the wife and mother must rest apart 
from husband and child in the populous green cemetery, over- 
shadowed with trees and brightened with autumnal flashes 
of scarlet and purple flowers — a pretty place, a garden of 
graves. She would have preferred the familiar, murky, parish 
fold, side by side with those two who belonged to her, but as 
that desire of her heart cannot be granted, we lay her amongst 
friends — close by my dear old lady of the tower- cap, whose elder, 
household daughter lies even now sick unto death. Then sound 
m our ears the gracious words of hope and blessing, and we are left 
— all our mother's living children standing by her grave, "deep 
enough for every one." Then drags at our heart the lingering 
reluctance to go, and the goino. . Can the world ever be quite 
the same again without her faithful love ? 

HOLME LEE. 



ON RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. 

O THAT those lips had language ! Life has passed 
With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Those lips are thine — thy owm sweet smile I see, 
The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
*' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away ! " 
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes 



BEREAVEMENT. 



(Blest be the art that cfiii immortalize, 
The art that baffles Time's t}Tamiic claim 
To quench it 1) here shines on me still the same. 
Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 

welcome guest, though unexpected here I 
^Vho bidst me honour with an artless song, 
Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 

1 will obey, not willing'y alone. 

But gladly, as the precept were her o^ATL ; 
And, while that face renews my filial grief. 
Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, 
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, 
A momentary dream, that thou art she. 

My mother ! when I learned that thoti wast dead 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy soiTowing son. 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? 
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; 
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss ; 
Ah I that maternal smile I — it answers — yes. 
I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, 
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, 
And, turning from my nursery windovr, drew 
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu I 
But was it such ? — It was. Where thou art gone 
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknoA^m. 
]May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore. 
The parting word shall pass my lips no more i 
Thy maidens grieved themselves at my concern^ 
Oft gave me promise of thy quick return, 
What ardently I ^^ished I long believed. 
And, disappointed still, was still deceived ; 
By expectation every day beguiled. 
Dupe of to-morrow, even from a child. 
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 
Till, all my stock of infant sorrows spent, 
I learned at last submission to my lot. 
But though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 

Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more 
Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; 



148 



GONE BEFORE. 



And where the gardener Robin, day by day, 

Drew me to school along the public way, 

Delighted with my bauble coach, and "wrapped 

In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped. 

'Tis now become a history little known, 

That once we called the pastoral house our own. 

Short-lived possession ! But the record fair, 

That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, 

Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced 

A thousand other themes less deeply traced. 

Thy nightly visits to my chamber made. 

That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid ; 

Thy morning bounties ere I left my home. 

The biscuit, or confectionary plum ; 

The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed 

By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed : 

All this, and more endearing still than all. 

Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall. 

Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks, 

That humour interposed too often makes ; 

All this still legible in memory's page, 

And still to be so to my latest age. 

Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 

Such honours to thee as my numbers may ; 

Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere. 

Not scorned in Heaven, though little noticed here. 

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, 
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 
The violet, the pink, and jessamine, 
I pricked them into paper with a pin, 
(And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile. ) 
Could those few pleasant days again appear. 
Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? 
I would not trust my heart ; — the dear delight 
Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. 
But no ! what here we call our life is such. 
So little to be loved, and thou so much, 
That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast 
(The storms all weathered, and the ocean crossed) 
Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, 
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 
There sits quiescent on the floods, that show 
Her beauteous form reflected clear below. 
While airs impregnated \^dth incense play 
Around her, fanning light her streamers gay ;■ — 
So thou, with sails how swift I hast reached the shore 
" Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar ; " 
And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
Of life long since has anchored by thy side. 
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
Always from port withheld, always distressed. 
Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed, 
Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost. 
And day by day some current's thwarting force 
Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. 
Yet, O the thought that thou art safe, and he ! 
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise. 
The son of parents passed into the skies. 
And now farewell ! Time unrevoked has run 
His wanted course, yet what I wished is done. 
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again : 
To have renewed the joys that once were mine, 
Without the sin of violating thine : 
And while the wings of fancy still are free, 
And I can view this mimic show of thee. 
Time has but half succeeded in his theft. 
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left 







GONE BEFORE. 



DEATH OF A WIFE. 
"Whoe'er, like me, ^^'ith trembling anguish brings, 
His dearest earthly treasure to these springs, 
Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain, 
Shall court these salutary springs m vain : 
Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply, 
To mark the fadmg cheek, the sinking eye, 
From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death. 
And watch in dumb despair the short 'ning breath : — 
If chance should bring him to this humble line, 
Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine. 
Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast, 
Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd, 
Framed ev'ry tie that binds the heait prove, 
Her duty friendship, and her friendship love, 
But yet rememb'rmg that ihe parting sigh 
Appoints the just to slumber, not to d'e, 
The starting tear I check'd. — I kiss'd the rod, — 
And not to earth resign'd her, but to God ! 

LORD P4LMERST0N. 



SWEET MARY ! THOU ART DEAD ! 
If I had thought thou couldst have died, 

I might not weep for thee ; 
But I forgot, when by thy side. 

That thou couldst mortal be ; 
It never through my mind had past 

The time would e'er be o"er^ 
And I on thee should look my last. 

And thou shouldst smile no more ! 

And still upon that face I look, 

And think 'twill smile again ; 
And still the thought I \\^11 not brook, 

That I must look in vain ! 
But when I speak — thou dost not say 

What thou ne er left'st unsaid ; 
And now I feel, as well I may, 

Sweet ]\Iary I thou art dead ! 



BEREAVEMENT. 



151 



If thou wouldst stay e'en as thou art, 

All cold and all serene — 
I still might press thy silent heart, 

And where thy smiles have been ! 
While e'en thy chill bleak corse I have, 

Thou seemest still mine own ; 
But there I lay thee in thy grave — 

And I am now alone ! 

I do not think, where'er thou art, 

Thou hast forgotten me ; 
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart 

In thinking, too, of thee : 
Yet there was round thee such a dawn 

Of light, ne'er seen before. 
As fancy never could have drawn, 

And never can restore ! 

CHAS. WOLFE. 



THAT VOICE IS HERS. 

When I go to my lone bed, I find no mother there ; 

And weeping kneel, to say the prayer she taught ; 

Or when I read the Bible that she loved. 

Or to her vacant seat at church draw near, 

And think of her, a voice is in my heart, 

Bidding me early seek my God, and love 

My blessed Saviour ; and that voice is hers ; 

I know it is, because these were the words 

She used to speak so tenderly, with tears, 

At the still twilight hour, — or. when we walked 

Forth in the spring, among rejoicing birds, 

Or peaceful talked beside the winter hearth. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



A PARENT'S LOSS. 

If there are sufferings which, however dreadful in their 
endurance, are yet susceptible of amelioration, the sorrow which 



152 



GONE BEFORE. 



a parent's loss awakens is not among the number; other ties may 
be replaced, other affections may be restored, but when death 
breaks the bonds of filial love, nature, honouring the most sacred 
of her feelings, forbids a sentiment less pure, less strong, suc- 
ceeding to it ; and though the tear which sorrow sheds upon the 
parent's grave may be dried by time, the loss which bids that 
tear to flow can never be replaced by human tenderness or 
human power. 

THE CAIRN. 



THE BEAUTIFUL CHARACTER OF A DEPARTED 
WIFE. 

Her reserve and shrinking delicacy threw a veil over her 
beautiful character. She was little known beyond her home ; 
but there she silently spread around her that soft, pure light, the 
preciousness of which is never fully understood till it is quenched. 
Her calm, gentle wisdom, her sweet humility, her sympathy, 
which, though tender, was too serene to disturb her clear per- 
ceptions, fitted her to act instinctively, and without the conscious- 
ness of either party, on his more sanguine, ardent mind. She 
was truly a spirit of good, diffusing a tranquillizing influence too 
mildly to be thought of, and therefore more sure. The blow 
which took her from him left a wound which time could not heal. 
Had his strength been continued so that he could have gone 
from the house of mourning to the haunts of poverty, he would 
have escaped, for a good part of the day, the sense of his be- 
reavement. But a few minutes walk in the street now sent him 
wearied home. There the lo\ing eye which had so long bright- 
ened at his entrance was to shed its mild beam on him no more. 
There the voice that had daily inquired into his labours and 
like another conscience had whispered a sweet approval, was 
still. There the sympathy which had pressed with tender hand 
his aching head, and by its nursing care had postponed the hour 
of exhaustion and disease, was gone. He was not indeed left 
alone ; for filial love and reverence spared no soothing offices ; 
but these, though felt and spoken of as most precious, could not 
take the place of what had been removed. This great loss pro- 
duced no burst of grief. It was a still, deep sorrow, the feeling 



BEREAVEMENT. 



153 



of a mighty void, the last burden which the spirit can cast off. 
His attachment to life from this moment sensibly declined. In 
seasons of peculiar sensibility he wished to be gone. He kept 
near him the likeness of his departed friend, and spoke to me 
more than once of the solace which he had found in it. He heard 
her voice from another world, and his anticipations of that world, 
always strong, became now more vivid and touching. 

WM. ELLERY CHANNING. 



NOT IN DESPAIR I MOURN ! 

Silent he sleeps ! that eye. 
So lately bright with hope, is closed for ever ; 
Struck by the lightning plague he sank, — ^but never 

Was one more fit to die. 

Oh, what a sudden blow ! 
But yesterday he lived in health and beauty, 
And now they've hurried thro' their dreadful duty. 

And left me to mxy woe. 

Where are my friends all flown. 
Those friends who shared in all my hours of gladness ? 
Comes there not one to dry the tears of sadness ? 

Not one : — I am alone. 

Father, to Thee I turn : 
And though in sorrow, by the cold world slighted, 
And every dream of happiness now blighted, 

Not in despair I mourn ! 

For there are realms above. 
Far brighter realms, where grief shall have no dwelling ; 
There will Thy chosen rest, their voices swelling 
To praise Thy endless love ! 

LONGFELLOW. 



PASS UNDER THE ROD. 

I SAW the young bride in her beauty and pride. 
Bedecked in her snowy array 



154 



GONE BEFORE. 



And the bright flush of joy mantled high on her cheek, 

And the future looked blooming and gay ; 
And with woman's devotion she laid her fond heart 

At the shrine of celestial love ; 
And she anchored her hopes to this perishing earth, 

By the chain which her tenderness wove. 
But I saw when their heart-strings were bleeding and torn, 

And the chains had been severed in two. 
She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief, 

And her bloom to the paleness of woe. 
But the Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart. 

And wiping the tears from her eyes, 
And He strengthened the chain He had broken in twain, 

And- fastened it firm to the skies. 
There had whispered a voice — 'twas the voice of her God — 
I love thee ! I love thee I Pass under the rod. 

M. S. B, DANA. 



HOW GLORIOUS HIS END! 

Now that good heart bursts, and he is at rest ; with that 
breath expired a soul who never indulged a passion unfit for the 
place he is gone to. Where are now thy plans of justice, of truth, 
of honour ? Of what use the volumes thou hast collated, the 
arguments thou hast invented, the examples thou hast followed ? 
Poor were the expectations of the studious, the modest and the 
good, if the reward of their labours were only to be expected 
from man. No, my friend, thy intended pleadings, thy intended 
good offices to thy friends, thy intended ser\dces to thy country, 
are already performed (as to thy concern in them.) in His sight, 
before whom the past, present, and future, appear at one view. 
While others with thy talents were tormented \-\dth ambition, with 
vain-glory, with emy, with emulation, how well didst thou turn 
thy mind to its own improvement in things out of the power of 
fortune : in probity, in integrity, in the practice and study of 
justice ! How silent thy passage, how private thy journey, how 
glorious thy end I ]Many have I known more famous, some 
more knowing, not one so innocent ! 

SIR RICHARD STEELE. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



155 



HE PAST. 

He past ! a soul of nobler tone, 
My spirit loved, and loves him yet. 

TENNYSON. 



THE DIM EYE BRIGHTENING WITH ITS LAST 
LIGHT. 

It is not strange that that early love of the heart should come 
back, as it so often does, when the dmi eye is brightening with 
its last light. It is not strange that the freshest fountains the 
heart has ever known in its wastes should bubble up anew when 
the life-blood is gro\\nng stagnant. It is not strange that a 
bright memory should come to a dying old man, as the sunshine 
breaks across the hills at the close of a stonny day ; nor that 
in the light of that ray the very^ clouds that made the day dark 
should grow gloriously beautiful. 

N. HAWTHORN. 



SLEEP ON. 

Sleep on, sleep on, ye resting dead ; 

The grass is o'er ye growing 
In dewy greenness. Ever fled 

From you hath care ; and in its stead 
Peace hath with its dwelling made, 

Where tears do cease from flowing — 
Sleep on ! 

ROBERT NICOL. 

PRESS HER LIP WITH PARTING TOUCH. 

When she lieth on her bed, 

With a crown of lilies pale 
Set upon her peaceful head, 

And her true love's kiss would fail 
To restore a little red 

To the blanched cheek 



156 



GONE BEFORE. 



When her hands, all white and cold, 

On her cold, cold breast are laid, 
O'er the straight and snowy fold 

Palm to palm, as if she pray'd, 
Prayer to rest for aye untold 

On that mouth so meek. 

Do not gaze on her too much, 

You that have the nearest right ; 
Press her lip with parting touch, 

Leaving dimm'd your misty sight ; 
Death is false — and e'en to such 
Gentle ones as she. 

If you feed your loving eyes 

Then, when death her bridegroom seems, 
She shall come in deathly guise 

Through your thoughts, and through your dreams ; 
x\nd when met in Paradise 

Scarcely known she'll be. 

willia:^! allingham. 



OH ! HAPPY BEINGS WHO HAVE GONE TO HEAR 
WELL DONE !" 

Peace to their ashes ! Far away they lie. 

Among their poor, beneath the equal sky, 

Among their poor, who blessed them ere they went, 

For all the loving help and calm content. 

Oh ! happy beings who have gone to hear 

" Well done, ye faithful seiwants," sounding clear. 

How easy all your virtues to admire ; 

How hard, alas ! to copy and aspire. 

Servant of God, well done ! they serve God well 

Who serve his creatures ; when the funeral bell 

Tolls for the dead, there's nothing left of all 

That decks the scutcheon and the velvet pall 

Save this. The coronet is empty show : 

The strength and loveliness are hid belovr : 



BEREAVEMENT. 



157 



The shifting wealth to others have accraed : 
And learning cheers not the grave's solitude. 
\Yhat's DONE, is what remains ! Ah ! blessed the}' 
Who leave completed tasks of love to stay 
And answer mutely for them, being dead, 
Life was not purposeless, though life be fled. 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 

Ah ! the souls of those that die, 
Are but sunbeams lifted higher. 

LONGFELLOW. 

THEY GREET THE TOMB THAT LETS HEAVEN'S 
GLORIES IN. 

Gather ripe fruits, O death ! 
Strew not the pathway of the tomb with flowers ; 
Invade not childhood with thy withering breath : 
Pass on, and touch not youth's bright sunny bowers. 

There are enough for thee 
Of hearts that long for thy serene repose — 
That fain among the lowly-laid would be, 
Pierced deep with festering wounds that will not close. 

Go to the desolate 
^^'hom thou hast robb'd of every star-bright thing ; 
On whom the smiles of hope no longer wait — 
Whose loves have pass'd upon the morning's wing. 

Go to the wearied frame 
That seeks to slumber on the grave's cold breast — 
That finds life's pleasures but an empty name. 
And longs to flee away, and be at rest. 

Go to the saints of God, 
Whose souls are weary of the world and sin — 
Who fain would tread the path their Saviour trod, 
And greet the tomb that lets heaven's glories in. 

Take these, take these, to rest ; 
But smite not childhood in its mirthful play ; 
Snatch not the infant from its mother's breast : 
Steal not the loved and loving ones away. 



158 



GONE BEFORE. 



Gather ripe fruits, O death ! 
StreAv not the pathway of the tomb with flowers ; 
Invade not childhood with thy withering breath : 
Pass on, and touch not youth's bright fragrant bowers. 

SIR F. H. DOYLE. 

" THOU TOOK'ST BUT ^YHAT WAS THINE.* 

We clutch our joys as children do their flowers ; 
We look at them, but scarce believe them ours, 
Till our hot palms have smirched their colours rare 
And crushed their de^yJ beauty unaware. 
But the wise Gardener, whose they were, comes by 
At hours when we expect not, and with eye 
INIoumful yet sweet, compassionate though stem, 
Takes them. 

Then in a moment we discern 
By loss, what was possession, and, half wild 
With miseiy, cry out like an angry child : 

cruel ! thus to snatch my posy fine ! " 
He answers tenderly, " Not thine, but mine," 
And points to those stained fingers which do prove 
Our fatal cherishing, our dangerous love ; 

At which we, children, a pale silence keep 
Yet evermore must weep, and weep, and weep. 
So on through gloomy ways and thorny brakes, 
Quiet and slow, our shrinking feet He takes 
Led by the soiled hand, which, laved in tears, 
j\Iore and more clean beneath His sight appears. 
At length the heavy eyes with patience shine — 

1 am content ; Thou took'st but what was Thine." 

DINAH MULOCH. 



WOULD THEY COULD HAVE STAYED WITH US, 

Close the door, the shutters close, 
Or thro' the windows we shall see 
The nakedness and vacancy 

Of the dark, deserted house. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



159 



Come away : no more of mirth 
Is here, or merry-making sound. 
The house was builded of the earth, 

And shall fall again to ground. 

Come away : for life and thought 

Here no longer dwell ; 

But in a city glorious — 
A great and distant city — have bought. 

A mansion incorruptible, 

Would they could have stayed with us. 

TENNYSON. 

GOD WILL GATHER ALL HIS OWN 

Thinking of this death, so strange, bewildering — 
" Tell us, only tell us, what death is ? " 

Ah, we cannot any more than you ! 
We are also children, — of one Father ; 
And we only know that He will cratlier 

All His o\ATi, and keep them safely too. 
So this death as sweet as sleep is made ; 

For where'er we go, we go togethe?-, 

Father, mother, children : He knows whither, 
Since He takes us we are not afraid. 

Christ, who once said "Lazarus is sleeping,^^ 
Will awake us all in paradise. 

DINAH MULOCH. 

A PILLAR IN THE COURTS ABOVE. 

Weep not for him — the smoking flax 

Shall flame in heaven a radiant star ; 
The bruised reed shall stronger wax. 

In grace and strength surpassing far 
The cedar on the mountain's brow — 

No withered, wavering, weakling now, 
But fairest workmanship of love, 

A pillar in the courts above. 

REV. A. WALLACE. 



160 



GONE BEFORE. 



GOD CALLS HIS LOVED ONES. 

With silence only as their benediction 

God's angels come, 
^Vhere, in the shadow of a great affliction, 

The soul sits dumb. 
Yet would we say, what every heart approveth, 

Our Father's will. 
Calling to Him the dear ones whom he loveth. 

In mercy still. 
Not upon us or ours the solemn angel 

Hath evil \^TOught ; 
The funeral anthem is a glad evangel — 

The good die not ! 
God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly 

What He has given ; 
They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly 

As in His heaven. 

J. G. WHITTIER. 

And yet as angels, in some brighter dreams 

Call to the soul when man doth sleep ; 
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, 

And into glory peep. 

REV. HENRY VAUGHAN. 



SO FADES A SUMMER CLOUD AWAY. 
How blest the righteous when he dies I 

When sinks a weary soul to rest, 
How mildly beam the closing eyes, 

How gently heaves the expiring breast : 
So fades a summer cloud away ; 

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ; 
So gently shuts the eye of day ; 

So dies a wave along the shore. 
A holy quiet reigns around, 

A calm which life nor death destroys : 
Nothing disturbs that peace profound, 

Which his unfettered soul enjoys. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



161 



Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears, 

Where lights and shades alternate dwell ! 

How bright the unchanging morn appears ! 
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell ! 

Life's labour done, as sinks the clay, 

Light from its load the spirit flies ; 
While heaven and earth combine to say, 

How blest the righteous when he dies ! 

MRS. BARBAULD. 



THE CLOSING EYES LIT INTO TEARFUL 
RAPTURE. 

Beneath this airy sapphire's brooding rest, 

Its shadows overcast me with a chill 

Like coming storm, that black calamity. 

Which struck and took our darling from their charge 

And mine. Grief stupefied us all. At once 

The childless mother lost her wavering strength, 

And lay prostrated, never tasting life 

On earth again ! Beside, her husband sat 

And watched her fading ; saw the last poor smile 

Wane from her features, till the closing eyes 

Lit igto tearful rapture ; when he knew 

Love's immortality to her revealed. 

With both her own. she mutely clasped his hand, 

And held it in most gentle pressures fixed ; 

But when the tender grasp relaxed and fell, 

The world closed round him to a stony blank. 

THOMAS WOOLNER. 



I W[LL restore comforts unto him and to his mourners. 
Isaiah Ivii. 1 8. 



Few mercies call for more thankfulness than a friend safe 
heaven. It is not every one that overcometh. 

REV. J. HAMILTON. 

M 



GONE BEFORE. 



EVERY HOUR A STEP TOWARDS THEE. 

Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed, 

Never to be disquieted ! 

My last good night ! thou wilt not -wake 

Till I thy fate shall overtake : 

Till age, or grief, or sickness must 

Marry my body to that dust 

It so much loves, and fill the room 

My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. 

Stay for me there ; I will not fail 

To meet thee in that hollow vale. 

And think not much of my delay, — ' 

I am already on the way, 

And follow thee ^^*ith all the speed 

Desire can make, or sorrows breed. 

Each minute is a short degree. 

And every hour a step towards thee. 

At night when I betake to rest. 

Next morn I rise nearer my west 

Of life, almost by eight hours' sail. 

Than when Sleep breathed his drowsy gale. 

Thus from the sun my vessel steers, 
And my day's compass downward bears : 
Nor labour I to stem the tide 
Through which to thee I swiftly glide. 

'Tis trae, with shame and grief I yield, 
Thou like the van first took 'st the field. 
And gotten hast the victory 
In thus adventuring to die 
Before me, whose more years might crave 
A just precedence in the grave. 
But hark ! my pulse, like a soft drum. 
Beats my approach, tells thee I come ; 
And slow howe'er my marches be, 
I shall at last sit down by thee. 

The thought of this bids me go on. 
And wait my dissolution 
With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive 



BEREAVEMENT. 



The crime), I am content to live 
Divided, ^^-ith but half a heart, 
Till we shall meet and never part. 

DR. KING. 

IX SAD AND ASHY WEEDS I SIGH. 
In sad and ashy weeds I sigh, 

I gi-oan, I pine, I mourn ; 
My oaten yellow reeds I all 

To jet and ebon turn. 
My watery eyes, like winter's skies, 

^ly furrowed cheeks o'erflow : 
All heavens know why men mourn as I 

And who can blame my woe ? 
In sable robes of night my days 

Of joy consumed be ; 
My sorrow sees no light ; my lights 

Through sorrow nothing see : 
Eor now my sun his course has mn, 

And from his sphere doth go 
To endless bed of folded lead, 

And who can blame my woe ? 
Tvly flocks I now forsake, that so 

My sheep my grief may know ; 
The lilies loth to take, that since 

His death presumed to grow. 
I envy air, because it dare 

Still breathe, and he not so ; 
Hate earth that doth entomb his youth, 

And who can blame my woe ? 

Not I, poor I alone (alone 

How can this sorrow be ?) — . 
Not only men make moan, but more 

Than men make moan with me : 
The gods of queens, the mountain queens. 

The fairy-circled row. 
The ]Muses nine, and powers divine, 

Do all condole my woe. 

ANNE, COUNTESS OF ARUNDEL. 



GONE BEFORE. 



A BROTHER'S GRAVE'. 

Beneath the chancel's hallowed stone, 

Exposed to every rustic tread, 
To few, save rustic mourners known, 

My brother, is thy lowly bed. 
Few words upon thy rough stone graven, 

Thy name — thy birth — thy youth declare 
Thy innocence — thy hopes of heaven, 

In simplest phrase recorded there. 
No 'scutcheons shine, no banners wave, 
In mockery, o'er my brother's grave ; 
The place is silent. Rarely sound 
Is heard these ancient walls around, 
Is or mirthful voice of friends that meet, 
Discoursing in the public street ; 
Nor hum of business dull and loud, 
Nor munnur of the passing crowd, 
Nor soldier's drum, nor tiTimpet's swell, 
From neighbouring fort or citadel ; 
No sound of human toil or strife 
In death's lone dwelling speaks of life. 
Or breaks the silence still and deep, 

^^'here thou, beneath thy burial stone, 
Art laid in that unstartled sleep 

The living eye hath never known. 

I feel not now as then I felt : 

The sunshine of my heart is o'er ; 
The spirit now is changed which dwelt 

Within me in the days of yore. 
I loved my home, but trembled now 
To view my father's altered brow : 
I feared to meet my mother's eye, 
And hear her voice of agony ; 
I feared to view my native spot, 
WTiere he who loved it now was not : 
The pleasures of my home were tied : 
IMy brother slumbered with the dead. 



BEREAVEMENT. 

I drew near to my father's gate : 
No smiling faces met me now ; 

I entered — all was desolate — 
Grief sate upon my mother's brow : 

I heard her, as she kissed me, sigh, 

A tear stood in my father's eye ; 

I\Iy little brothers round me pressed, 

In gay unthinking childhood blessed. 

Long, long that hour has passed, but when 

Shall I forget its gloomy scene r 

The Sabbath came. ^Vith mournful face 

I sought my brother's burial place — 

That shrine which when I last had viewed 

In ^dgour by my side he stood. 

I gazed around with fearful eye ; 

All things were hushed in sanctity. 

I reached the chancel — nought was changed 

The altar decently arranged, 

The pure white cloth above the shrine, 

The consecrated bread and wine — 

All was the sa me. I found no trace 

Of sorrow in that holy place. 

One hurried glance I downward gave — 

!My foot was on my brother's grave ! 

And years have passed — and thou art now 

Forgotten in thy silent tomb ; 
And cheerful is my mother's brow , 

My father's eye has lost its gloom : 
And years have passed and death has laid 

Another victim by thy side ; 
AVith thee he roams, an infant shade, 

But not more pure than thee he died 
But thou wert snatched, my brother, hence 
In all thy guileless innocence ; 
One Sabbath saw thee bend the knee 
In reverential piety — 
(For childish thoughts forgiveness crave) — 
The next beamed brightly on thy grave. 



GONE BEFORE. 



The crowd, of which thou late wert one, 
Now throng across thy burial stone : 
Rude footsteps trample on the spot 
Where thou liest mouldering, not forgot : 
And some few gentler bosoms weep 
In silence o'er thy last long sleep. 
I stood not by thy feverish bed, 

I looked not on thy glazing eye, 
Nor gently lulled thy aching head, 

Nor viewed thy dying agony. 
I felt not what my parents felt — 

The doubt — the terror — the distress : 
Nor vainly for my brother knelt : — 

My soul w^as spared that wretchedness : 
One sentence told me in a breath 
My brother's illness and his death ! 

And days of mourning glided by. 
And brought me back my gaiety : 
For soon in childhood's wayward heart 
Doth crushed affection cease to smart. 
Again I joined the sportive crowd 
Of boyish pla}miates, wild and loud : 
I learnt to ^dew with careless eye 
My sable garb of miseiy : 
No more I wept my brother's lot — 
His image was almost forgot : 
And eveiy deeper shade of pain 
Had vanish'd from my soul again. 

The well-known morn I used to greet 

With boyhood's joy at length was beaming 
And thoughts of home and rapture sweet 

In every eye but mine was gleaming : 
But I, amidst that youthful band 

Of bounding hearts and beaming eyes, 
Nor smiled nor spoke at joy's command, 

Nor felt those wonted ecstacies ! 

REV. JOHN MOULTRIE. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



169 



Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me : for my 
soul trusteth in thee : yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I 
make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast. — Psalm 
Ivii. I. 

DEATH OF A YOUNG MOTHER. 
It was an April day ; and blithely all 
The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, 
And promised glorious manhood : and our hearts 
Were glad — and round them danced the lightsome blood 
In healthy merriment — when tidings came, 
A child was born ; and tidings came again, 
That she who gave it birth was sick to death, 
So swift trod sorrow on the heels of joy ! 
We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees 
In fervent supplication to the Throne 
Of Mercy ; and perfumed our prayers with sighs 
Sincere, and penitential tears and looks 
Of self-abasement. But we sought to stay 
An angel on the earth, a spirit ripe 
For Heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused ; 
Most merciful, as oft, when seeming least ! 
Most gracious when she seemed the most to frown ! 
The room I well remember ; and the bed 
On which she lay ; and all the faces too, 
That crowded dark and mournfully around. 
Her father there, and mother, bending, stood. 
And down their aged cheeks fell many drops 
Of bitterness ; her husband, too, was there. 
And brothers, and they wept — her sisters, too, 
Did weep and sorrow comfortless ; and I 
Too, wept, though not to weeping given : and all 
Within the house was dolorous and sad. 
This I remember well; but better still 
I do remember, and will ne'er forget 
The dying eye : — that eye alone was bright, 
And brighter gi'ew, as nearer death approached | 
As I have seen the gentle little flower 
Look fairest in the silver beam, which fell 



170 



GONE BEFORE. 



Reflected from the thunder- cloud that soon 

Came do\^-n, and o'er the desert scattered far 

And wide its loveliness. She made a sign 

To bring her babe ; ^twas brought, and by her placed. 

She looked upon its face that neither smiled 

Nor Avept, nor knew who gazed upon't, and laid 

Her hand upon its little breast, and sought 

For it ^^dth look that seemed to penetrate 

The heavens — unutterable blessings— such 

As God to dymg parents only granted. 

For infants left behind ihem in the world : 

God keep my child ! " we heard her say, and heard 
IS'o more : the Angel of the Covenant 
Was come, and faithful to His promise stood, 
Prepared to walk \^dthher through death's dark vale. 
And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still, 
Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused 
"With many tears and closed \\dthout a cloud. 
They set as sets the morning-star, which goes 
Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides 
Obscured among the tempests of the sky. 
But melts away into the light of heaven. 

ROBERT POLLOK. 

She hath given up the ghost; her sun is gone down while it 
was yet day. — ^Jer. xv. 9. 

Willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present 
with the Lord. — 2 Cor. v. 8. 



LONG AGO. 
In the silence of my chamber 

When the night is still and deep, 
And the drowsy heave of ocean 

iNIutters in its charmed sleep. 

Oft I hear the angel-voices 

That have thrill'd me long ago — 

Voices of my lost companions, 
Lying deep beneath the snow. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



171 



Oh, the garden I remember, 

In the gay and sunny spring, 
When our laughter made the thickets 

And the arching alleys ring ! 

O the meriy burst of gladness ! 

O the soft and tender tone ! 
O the whisper never utter'd 

Save to one fond ear alone ! 

O tne light of life that sparkled 

In those bright and bounteous eyes ? 

O the blush of happy beauty, 
Tell-tale of the heart's surprise I 

O the radiant light that girdled 

Field and forest, land and sea, 
When we all were young together. 

And the earth was new to me ! 

\Miere are now the flowers we tended ? 

Withered, broken, branch and stem ; 
\'Miere are now the hopes we cherish"d ? 

Scattered to the winds with them. 
For ye, too, were flowers, ye dear ones ! 

Nursed in hope and reared in love, 
Looking fondly ever up\^ ard 

To the clear blue heaven above. 

PROFESSOR AYTOUX. 



THE DEATH OF A SISTER. 

The stars that shine o'er day's decline may tell the hour of love, 
The balmy whisper in the leaves, the golden moon above ; 
But vain the hour of softest power : the noon is dark to thee, 
iMy sister and my faithful one I — And, oh I her death to me I 

In sickness, aye, I cried to her — her beauty and her kiss : 
For her my soul was loth to leave so fair a world as this : 
And glad was I when day's soft gold again upon me fell, 
And the sweetest voice in all the world said, "Brother, art thou 
weU?" 



172 



GONE BEFORE. 



She led me where the voice of streams the leafy forest fills ; 
She led me where the white sheep go o'er the shining turfy hills ; 
And when the gloom upon me fell, O, she, the fairest beam, 
Led forth, with silver leading-strings, my soul from darksome 
dream. 

Now, sailing by, the butterfly may through the lattice peer, 
To tell the prime of summer-time, the glory of the year ; 
But ne'er for her ; — to death her eyes have given up their trust, 
And I cannot reach them in the grave, to clear them from the 
dust. 

But in the skies her pearly eyes the angels there have kiss'd 
And she hath dipped her sainted foot in the sunshine of the 
blest. 

Eternal peace her ashes keep, who loved me through the past ! 
" And may good Christ my spirit take to be with hers at last ! 

THOMAS AIRD. 



ONE BY ONE. 

They are gathering homeward from every land, 

One by one, 
As their weary feet touch the shining strand, 

One by one. 
Their brows are enclos'd in a golden crow, 
Their travel- stained gaiTnents are all laid down. 
And clothed in white raiment they rest on the mead, 
Where the Lamb loveth His children to lead, 

One by one. 

Before they rest they pass through the strife 

One by one. 
Through the waters of death they enter life 

One by one. 
To some are the floods of the river still 
As they ford on their way to the heavenly hill ; 
To others the waves run fiercely and wild, 
Yet they reach the home of the undefiled; 

One by one. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



173 



We too shall come to that river side 

One by one ; 
We are nearer its waters each eventide 

One by one ; 
We can hear the noise and the dash of the stream. 
Now and again through our life's deep dream ; 
Sometimes the floods all its banks o'erflow, 
Sometimes in ripples the small waves go 

One by one. 
Jesus, Redeemer, we look to Thee 

One by one, 
We lift up our voices tremblingly 

One by one. 
The waves of the river are dark and bold, 
W^e know surely the spot where our feet may hold ; 
Thou who didst pass through in deep midnight, 
Strengthen us, send us, Thy staff and Thy light 

One by one. 
Plant Thou Thy feet beside as we tread 

One by one, 
On Thee let us lean each drooping head 

One by one ; 
Let but Thy strong arm around us be twined, 
We shall cast all our cares and fears to the wind ; 
Saviour, Redeemer, be Thou in full view 
Smilingly, gladsomely, shall we pass through 

One by one. 

MARY LESLIE. 



WHEN THE CORN FALLS FULLY RIPE NO 
HEART-CRY IS VERY BITTER. 

*' Death as it is universal cannot be an evil, " has said some 
philosopher, and doubtless there is purpose and mercy in every 
seeming random stroke of the scythe. When the com falls fully 
ripe no heart-cry is very bitter, but what feel we when little 
Golden-hair droops away from the sun, after nine short years of 
innocent delight ? It is God's will — let it be done ! — her 



174 



GONE BEFORE. 



mother has children still left for earth, and one angel saved for 
heaven. 

And what when the Reaper cuts down the tall green blade 
up-gro\^Ti, but fruitless ? Still only, it is God's will — let him do 
what seemeth Him best. Perchance there was some blight on 
the leaf, some canker at the root, that would have spread and 
eaten all, had He not taken it in its greenness from the slow 
decay. 

HOLME LEE. 



'TIS YOURS TO MAKE OUR LOT SUBLIME. 

O Life! O Death! O World! O Time! 

O Grave ! where all things flow, 
'Tis yours to make our lot sublime. 

With your great weight of woe. 
Though sharpest anguish hearts may \^Ting, 

Though bosoms torn may be, 
Yet suffering is a holy thing ; 

Without it what were we ? 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



ERE LONG, BEFORE THE THRONE WITH THEE ! 

FaPvEWELL my father's friend and mine ! 

While on the dead I gaze 
I dare not murmur nor repine, 

But tune the notes of praise, 
For here I see the fonn alone, 
The spirit is before the throne ! 

And when the earth shall o'er thee lie, 

And darkness close thee round, 
I shall not weep ; I shall not sigh. 

But joy that thou art crowned. 
And bear'st with strength that cannot tire, 
The victor's palm — the seraph's lyre. 



BEREAVEMENT. 



175 



So calm and placid are thy looks 

That infant prattlers come 
And lay aside their little books, 

And cease their busy hum ; 
And round about their stand they take, 
And wonder when thou wilt awake. 

Thy life, in the esteem of those 

Who best thy virtues knew, 
\Yas calm and gentle, and its close 

AYas calm and gentle too ; 
So lightly passed the parting breath ■ 
That we could hardly call it death. 

No sound was there of dark distress, 

Of shrinking from the view ; 
But putting off the ancient dress, 

And putting on the new ; 
An opening gate— an entrance in. 
Away from sorrow, pain, and sin. 

The earthly goods on thee bestowed, 

Too much thou didst not prize ; 
And thou hast gained that bright abode 

Eternal in the skies, 
Where neither moth corrupts, nor rust 
The treasures of the ransomed just. 

Farewell, my Father's friend, and mine ! 

No more the dead I view ; 
But fix my heart where spirits dwell 

Beyond the cloudless blue ; 
And earnest pray that mine may be 
Ere long, before the throne with thee ! 

REV. BENGO COLLYER. 



SOB IN SILENCE WITH AN UPWARD GAZE. 
When some beloved, 'neath whose eyelids lay 
The sweet lights of my childhood, one by one 



GONE BEFORE. 



Did leave me dark before the natural sun, 

And I astonied fell and could not pray, 

A thought within me to myself did say, 

*' Is God less God, that thoit art left undone ? 

Rise, worship, bless Him, in this sackcloth spun. 

As in that purple. " But I answered. Nay ! 

What child his filial heart in words can loose 

If he behold his tender father raise 

The hand that chastens sorely ? can he choose 

But sob in silence ^^dth an upward gaze ? 

And 7ny great Father, thinking fit to bruise. 

Discerns in speechless tears both prayer and praise. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



TRUST IN OUR FATHER. 

Though all our violets, sweet, are dead. 

The primrose lost from fields we knew, 
Who knows what harvest may be spread 

For reapers brave like me and you ? 
Who knows what bright October suns 

May light up distant valleys mild, 
Where, as our pathway downiward runs, 

We see joy meet us, like a child. 
Who, sudden, by the road-side stands, 

To kiss the travellers' weary brows. 
And lead them through the twilight lands 

Safely unto their Father's house ? 
So we'll not dream, nor look back, dear, 

But march Hght on, content and bold, 
To where our life sets heavenly clear. 

Westward behind the hills of gold. 

DINAH MULOCH. 



AWHILE I WEEP AND LINGER HERE. 

Pure spirit ! O where art thou now ? 

O whisper to my soul ! 
O let some soothing thought of thee 

This bitter grief control ! 



BEREAVEMENT. 



177 



'Tis not for thee the tears I shed, 

Thy sufferings now are o'er ; 
The sea is calm, the tempest past, 

On that eternal shore. 

No more the storms that \^Teck thy peace, 

Shall tear that gentle breast ; 
Nor summer's rage, nor winter's cold, 

Thy poor, poor frame molest. 

Thy peace is sealed, thy rest is sure, 

My soiTOws are to come ; 
Awhile I weep and linger here, 

Then follow to the tomb. 

And is the awful veil withdrawTi, 

That shrouds from mortal eyes, 
In deep impenetrable gloom, 

The secrets of the skies ? 

Oh, in some dream of visioned bliss. 

Some trance of rapture, show 
Where, on the bosom of thy God, 

Thou rest'st from human woe ! 

Thence may thy pure devotion's flame 

On me, on me descend : 
To me thy strong aspiring hopes, 

Thy faith, thy fervours lend. 

Let these my lonely path illume. 

And teach my weakened mind 
To welcome all that's left of good, 

To all that's lost resigned. 

Farewell ! With honour, peace, and love, 

Be thy dear memory blest ! 
Thou hast no tears for me to shed, 

When I too am at rest. 

MRS. BARBAULD. 

N 



178 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE DEAD CARRY OUR THOUGHTS TO A 
XOBLER EXISTE^XE. 

I HAVE seen one die I — in the maturity of even- power ; in 
the earthly perfection of ever}- facuky ; when many temptations 
had been overcome, and many hard lessons had been learned ; 
when many experiments had made virtue easy, and had given a 
facility to action, and a success to endeavour ; when %\i5doni 
had been learnt from many mistakes, and a skill had been la- 
boriously acquired in the use of many powers : and the being I 
looked upon had just compassed that most useful, most practical 
of all knowledge, how to live, and to act well and \\isely : yet 
I have seen such an one die I Was all this treasure gained onlv 
to be lost ? Were all these faculties trained only to be thrown 
into utter disuse ? W:,s this instrument — the intelligent soul, 
the noblest in the universe — was it so laboriously fashioned, and 
by the most varied and expensive apparatus, that, on the ver,' 
moment of being finished, it should be cast away for ever? 
Xo, the dead, as we call them, do not so die. They carr>^ our 
thoughts to another and a nobler existence. They teach us, and 
especially by all the strange and seemingly untoward circumx- 
stances of their departure from this life, that they and we shall 
live for ever. They open the future world then to our faith, and 
also to our affections. Xo person of reflection and piety can 
have lived long without beginning to find, in regard to the 
earthly objects that most interest him — his friends — that the 
balance is gi-adually inclining in favour of another world. How 
many, after the middle period of life, and especially in declining 
years, must feel, if the experience of Hfe has had any just effect 
upon them — that the objects of their strongest attachment are 
not here. . . . We may say, in the language of reason, if 
they live there, they love there. We may answer in the lan- 
guage of Jesus Christ, ' ' He that liveth and believeth in !Me 
shall never die " ; and again, " I am the God of Abraham, the 
God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. God is not the God of 
the dead, but of the living.'' Then is it true that they live 
there : and yet they speak to us I From that bright sphere, 
from that calm region, from the bowers of life immortal, they 
speak to us. They say to us, * Sigh not in despair over the 
broken and defeated expectations of earth. Sorrow not as 



BEREAVEMENT. 



179 



others who have no hope. Bear calmly and cheerfully thy lot. 
Brighten the chain of love — of sympathy — of communion with 
all pure minds on earth and in heaven. Think, oh ! think of 
the mighty and glorious company that fill the immortal regions ! 
Light, life, beauty, beatitude are here. Come, children of 
earth I come to the bright and blessed land ' ! I see no lovely 
features revealing themselves through the dim and shadowy 
veils of heaven. I see no angel forms enrobed with the bright 
clouds of eventide. But I hear a voice saying, Write, blessed 
are the dead who die in the Lord, for they rest (for they rest) 
from their labours, and their works (works of piety and love 
recorded in our hearts, and kept in eternal remembrance, — their 
w^orks) do follow them." Our hearts — their workmanship — do 
follow them, We will go and die with them. We wdll go and 
live with them for ever ! Can I leave these meditations, my 
brethren, without paying homage to that religion which has 
brought life and immortality to light, without calling to mind 
that simple and touching acknowledgment of the good Apostle, 
thank God through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

REV. ORVILLE DEWEY, D.D. 

SOUL, TO ITS PLACE ON HIGH. 
Calm on the bosom of thy God, 

Fair spirit ! rest thee now ! 
E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod^ 

His seal was on thy brow. 

Dust, to its narrow house beneath ! 

Soul, to its place on high ! 
They that have seen thy look in death, 

No more may fear to die. 

MRS. HEM AN S. 

DEATH HATH NO STING SINCE THE SAVIOUR 

HATH DIED. 
Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee. 

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb ; 
The Saviour has pass'd through its portals before thee, 

And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the gloom. 



180 



GONE BEFORE. 



Thou art gone to the grave — we no longer behold thee, 
Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side ; 

But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, 
And sinners may hope since the Sinless has died- 

Thou art gone to the grave— and its mansions forsaking, 
Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt linger'd long; 

But the sunshine of heaven beam'd bright on thy waking, 
And the song which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song. 

Thou art gone to the grave — but 'twere wrong to deplore 
thee 

When God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and Guide ; 
He gave thee, He took thee, — and soon will restore thee ; 
And death hath no sting since the Saviour hath died. 

BISHOP HEBER. 



SORROW NOT WITHOUT HOPE. 

I WOULD not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning 
them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which 
have no hope. 

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them 
also which sleep in Jesus will God bring vdth. him. 

For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we 
which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall 
not prevent them which are asleep, 

For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, 
with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of. God : 
and the dead in Christ shall rise first : 

Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up 
together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air : 
and so shall \^-e ever be with the Lord. 

Wherefore comfort one another with these words. 

I Thessalonians iv, 13 — iS. 



DEATH. 



THE riRST— LAST LOOK— BY DEATH REVEALED. 

He that hath bent him o'er the dead, 

Ere the first day of death is fled — 

The first dark day of nothingness, 

The last of danger and distress, — 

Before decay's effacing fingers 

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers 

And marked the mild angelic air, 

The rapture of repose that's there ; 

The fixed yet tender traits that streak 

The languor of the placid cheek ; 

And but for that sad shrouded eye. 
That fires not — wins not — weeps not — now, 
And but for that chill, changeless brow, 

Whose touch thrills with mortality, 

And curdles to the gazer's heart, 

As if to him it could impart 

The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon, — 

Yes, but for these, and these alone, 

Some moments — ay — one treacherous hour. 

He still might doubt the tyrant's power, 

So fair, so calm, so softly sealed, 

The first — last look — by death revealed ! 

LORD BYRON. 



Death is a commingling of eternity with time ; in the death 
of a good man, eternity is seen looking through time. 

GOETHE. 



182 



GONE BEFORE. 



LEADING FROM LIGHT TO LIGHT, THROUGH 
A BRIEF DARKNESS. 

Weep not, my friends ! Rather rejoice with me ; 
I shall not feel the pain, but shall be gone ; 
And you will have another friend in heaven. 
Then start not at the creaking of the door 
Through which I pass. I see what lies beyond it. 

The grave itself is but a covered bridge 

Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness ! 

LONGFELLOW. 

Death is like sleep ; 
A gentle wafting to immortal life. 

MILTON. 



Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life. 

Rev. ii. lo. 



Thou earnest them away as with a flood ; they are as a sleep : 
in the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the 
morning it flourisheth and groweth up ; in the evening it is cut 
down and withereth. 

We spend our years as a tale that is told. 

So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts 
unto wisdom. — ^.Psalm xc. 5, 6, 9, 12. 



THEY WHO DIE IN FAITH DIE IN PEACE. 

Peace in death is the effect of a good man's principles. For 
that which made his life peaceful will also pacify at death. It 
is not the remembrance of a well-spent life, nor any confidence 
in the flesh that he is personally righteous before God and need 
tear nothing ; but it is the stedfast reliance on the Saviour for 
pardon and acceptance, which tranquillizes the soul in death, and 
puts to flight its rising fears. Hope also comes in, and tells of 
the glory of Christ in heaven, and the mansions of glory which 



DEATH. 



183 



He has prepared for his followers there ; and love concludes that 
to depart and be \^dth Christ is far better, and therefore death 
ceases to be an object of dread and dismay. Thus the principles 
of grace that \\Tought peace through life, produce it at the hour 
of death. "All these," says the Apostle, " died in faith ; " and 
they who die in faith die in peace. 

As there is a promise of strength according to our day, and an 
assurance from Christ that His grace is sufficient for us, so 
the day of death hath its peculiar strength granted it; and special 
grace is allotted for that time of need. The Lord knows that 
more than ordinary help is then needful, and it is given. His 
glory is concerned to uphold them in that hour, and though their 
hearts and their flesh faint and fail, He is the strength of their 
heart and their portion for ever. * * When thou passest through 
the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they 
shall not overflow thee," (Isa. xliii. 2). He rebukes the enemy, 
silences the accuser, and speaks His own peace to the believing 
soul. He \^'ill not perhaps give rapture and the voice of triump? 
but though the believer should not be able to say, *' O deat' 
where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ? " it is enor 
if he can say, " Into Thy hand I commit my spirit ; Thou ^ 
redeemed me, O Lord God of truth ! " 

This is peace, the peace of redeemed souls, expiring in faith, 
and with meek resignation submitting to death in the hope of 
eternal life. When we mark the perfect man, his latter end is 
peace. 

DR. SIEVERIGHT. 



THE NECESSITY OF DEATH. 

It is impossible that anything so natural, so necessary, and 
so universal as death, should ever have been designed by pro- 
vidence as an evil to mankind. 

DEAN SWIFT. 



An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave ; 
Legions of angels can't confine me there 

EDWARD YOUNG. 



184 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE DEAD, HOW SACRED ! 
The dead, how sacred ! sacred is the dust 
Of this heaven-laboured form, erect divine ! 
This heav'n-assumed majestic robe of earth 
He deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanse 
With azure bright, and clothed the sun in gold. 

THOMSON. 

DEATH IS IN THE WORLD FOR OUR HIGHEST 
GOOD. 

Comforting are the sublime words which come down to us 
as a divine revelation from heaven, Death is yours." Death is 
in the world for our highest good. It is not an adverse, but a 
beneficial appointment, that man must die. And even a dis- 
pensation which at the first filled us with consternation and amaze- 
ment, and deprived us of one who was lovely and pleasant in his 
ife, will, if it be sanctified, bring us an infinitely greater good 
Han it has taken away. Yes, death is ours, even when it lays 
hand upon friends and relations the most esteemed, and the 
st endeared ; when it robs us of those who by the world, the 
.amily, and the church j could ill be spared. We may claim ad- 
versity and death as ours^ however sternly they may be opposed 
to our present happiness, and though they spread the darkness 
of desolation all around us ; since, directed by the wise tenderness 
of Him who is very pitiful and gi-acious, they are made subser- 
yient to our ultimate and highest good. When our eyes are 
blinded with tears, and our souls refuse to be comforted, we can- 
not trace the links which connect the bereaving dispensation with 
the good of all who are concerned therein. But amidst the 
spiritual dulness produced by our grief, the Lord saith to us, 
*' What I do ye shall know hereafter." 

REV. THOMAS HILL. 

THE MYSTERY OF DEATH. 
I STAND beside the dead ; 

How still and strange the marble features are ! 
I scarce can deem these rigid lips have said 

Their last, last earthly prayer. 



DEATH. 



186 



The hands are snowy cold, 

Crossed on the bosom where no sorrows stir, 
Beneath the shadow of the white shroud's fold ; 

Peace came with death to her. 

What strange thoughts come and go, 

While looking on the silent, pallid dead ! 

We wonder if their death-sealed senses know, 
Touch, word, or muffled tread. 

Perhaps she hears me speak ! 

Perchance she felt your tears, as fast they fell ! 
And may-be when you bent to kiss her cheek, 

She knew it ! Who can tell ? 

I wonder if her eyes 

Are looking from beneath the stirless lids 
To the far hills and plains of paradise, 

From our dim vision hid ! 

What is each thought that lies 

Beneath her pulseless breast ? We cannot know ! 
In vain we question of death's mysteries, 

And — it is better so ! 

CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. 



We're now embark 'd upon that stormy flood 
Where all the wise and brave are gone before us, 
'Ere since the birth of time to meet eternity. 

JONES. 



TO DIE IS LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE. 

'Tis to the vulgar death too harsh appears : 
The ill we feel is only in our fears. 
To die is landing on some silent shore. 
Where billows never break, nor tempests roar ; 
E'er well we feel the friendly stroke, 'tis o'er. 

SIR SAMlUEL GARTH. 



186 



GONE BEFORE. 



BETWEEN TWO BREATHS. 

Between two breaths, what crowded mysteries lie, — 
The first short gasp, the last and long-drawn sigh ! 
Like phantoms painted on the magic slide, 
Forth from the darkness of the past we glide, 
As living shadows for a moment seen 
In airy pageant on the eternal screen. 
Traced by a ray from one unchanging flame. 
Then seek the dust and stillness whence we came. 

O. W. HOLMES. 

DEATH LEAVES PALE SORROW WEEPING BY 
THE HEARTH. 
Ah ! it is sad when one thus linked departs ! 
When death, that mighty sev'rer of true hearts, 
Sweeps thro' the halls so lately loud in mirth. 
And leaves pale sorrow weeping by the hearth ! 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 



THE GREAT TRANSITION. 
Death is something so strange that it withstands all experi- 
ence ; one thinks it impossible for it to seize a beloved object. 
It always presents itself as an incredible and unexpected event, 
and this transition from an existence we know, to one of which 
we know nothing, is something so violent, that it cannot take 
place without the greatest shock to the survivors. 

GOETHE. 

O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING ? 
That a man should lament at having to die, be it sooner or 
later, indicates neither philosophy nor religion. No one who is 
in a right state of mind ever even thinks about death. He thinks 
only of his life, knowing that if this be properly regulated and 
developed, death, coipe when it may, will but invigorate and 
renew him. It would be difficult to find a greater or more 
pernicious error than that so often propounded as religious," 
that men should be always looking forward to their "end." 



DEATH. 



187 



They should never be looking fonvard to their end ; they should 
be too intent upon their present. True religion does not concern 
itself as to how and when men die, but as to the quality of their 
current life. 

LEO H. GRINDON. 



NO THINKING SHOULD BE LEFT TO A 
DEATH-BED. 

Every act is a foundation-stone of future conduct, and every 
imagination a fountain of life or death ! Be thoughtless in any 
after years rather than in youth, — though, indeed, there is only 
one place where a man may be nobly thoughtless, — his death 
bed. No thinking should ever be left to be done there. 

JOHN RUSKIN. 

How to live 
And how to die forms the great lesson still. 

p. J. BAILEY. 

*'IT IS APPOINTED UNTO MEN ONCE TO DIE." 

Earth is the centre of my body, heaven is the centre of my 
soul ; those two are the natural places of these two ; but these 
go not to those two in an equal pace. My body falls down 
without pushing, my soul does not go up without pulling : as- 
cension is my soul's pace and measure, but precipitation my 
body's : — and even angels, whose home is heaven, and who are 
winged too, yet had a ladder to go to heaven by steps. The sun 
who goes so many miles in a minute, the stars of the firmament 
which go so very many more, go not so fast as my body to the 
earth. In the same instant that I feel the first attempt of the 
disease I feel the victory (gained by the disease). In the 
twinkling of an eye I can *' scarce " see ; instantly the tasle is 
insipid and fatuous ; instantly the appetite is dull and desireless; 
instantly the knees are sinking and strengthless ; and in an 
instant, sleep, which is the picture, the copy of death, is taken 
away, that the original, death itself, may succeed, and that so I 
might have death to the life. 

dr. JOHN DONNE. 



183 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE WORLD IS FILLED WITH THE VOICES OF 
THE DEAD. 

How enduring is the memorial of goodness ! It is but a sen- 
tence, which is read in a moment — it is but a leaf from the school 
of time ; and yet it is borne on the breath of ages — it takes the 
attributes of universality and eternity — it becomes a heritage 
from family to family, among all the dwellings of the world. The 
world is filled with the voices of the dead. They speak not from 
the public records of the great world only, but from the private 
history of our own experience. They speak to us in a thousand 
remembrances, in a thousand instances, events, associations. 
They speak to us not only from their silent graves, but from the 
throng of life. Though they are invisible, yet life is filled with 
their presence. They are with us by the silent fireside, and in 
the secluded chamber ; they are with us in the paths of society, 
and in the crowded assembly of men. They speak to us from 
the lonely wayside ; and they speak to us from the venerable 
walls that echo to the steps of a multitude, and to the voice of 
prayer. Go where we will, the dead are with us. We live, we 
converse with those who once lived and conversed with us. 
Their well-remembered tones mingle with the whispering breezes, 
with the sound of the falling leaf, with the jubilee shout of the 
spring-time. The earth is filled with their shadowy train. But 
there are more substantial expressions of the presence of the 
dead with the living. The earth is filled with the labours, the 
works of the dead. Almost all the literature in the world, the 
discoveries of science, the glories of art, the ever-during temples, 
the dv/elling-places of generations, the comforts and improve- 
ments of life, the languages, the maxims, the opinions of the 
living, the very framework of society, the institutions of nations, 
the fabrics of empire — all are the works of the dead ; by these, 
they who are dead yet speak. Life — busy, eager, craving, im- 
portunate, absorbing life — yet what is its sphere, compared with 
the empire of death ? What, in other words, is the sphere of 
visible compared with the mighty empire of invisible life ? A 
moment in time ; a speck in immensity ; a shadow amidst en- 
during and unchangeable realities ; a breath of existence amidst 
the ages and regions of undying life ! They live — they live 
indeed, whom we call dead. They live in our thoughts ; they 
live in our blessings ; they live in our life : death hath no power 
over them. rev. orville dewey,d.d. 



DEATH. 



189 



MORE TERRIBLE AT THE ENTRANCE THAN 
WITHIN. 

Many are the shapes 
Of death, and many are the ways that lead 
To his grim cave ; all dismal ! yet to sense 
More terrible at the entrance than within. 

MILTON. 



ALL WAS ENDED NOW. 

All was ended now, the hope and the fear and the sorrow; 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing. 
All the dull deep pain, and constant anguish of patience. 

LONGFELLOW. 



The righteous is taken away from the evil to come ; he shall 
enter into peace. — Isaiah Ivii. i. 



READY WHENSOEVER HE CALLS. 
He that always waits upon God is ready whensoever He calls. 
Neglect not to set your accounts even : he is a happy man who 
so lives as that death at all times may find him at leisure to die. 

OWEN FELTHAM. 



TO FEEL THAT YOU ARE YOUR OWN AT 
THAT HOUR. 

Seeing you must go naked as you came, do not stay for 
Death to pluck off your clothes ; but strip yourself, and owe your 
liberty to* your o^^m hands. It will not be long, you are well 
assured, ere that debt to nature must be paid ; and then there 
cannot be a greater contentment than to feel that you are your 
own at that hour ; that you can dispose of yourself to God 
without let or hindrance, and that you can die in the freedom 
wherein you were bom. If you stand engaged to the world, it 
will be sure to put in its claim a.nd challenge an interest in you 



190 



GONE BEFORE. 



at that time. And therefore follow your resolution betime ; that 
so it may not give you any trouble then, but suffer you to go out 
of it as quietly and with as little care as you came into it. 

SIMON PATRICK. 



DEATH IS THE LIGHTEST EVIL WE SHOULD 
FEAR. 

Death is the lightest evil we should fear ; 
'Tis certain, 'tis the consequence of life ; 
Th' important question is not that we die, 
But how we die. 

HAVARD. 



THE GATHERING OF RIPE FRUITS. 

The sublimity of wisdom is to do those things living, which 
are to be desired when dying. For the death of the righteous is 
like the descending of ripe and wholesome fruits from a pleasant 
and florid tree. Our senses entire, our limbs unbroken, without 
horrid tortures ; after provision made for our children, with a 
blessing entailed upon posterity, in the presence of our friends, 
our dearest relative closing our eyes — leaving a good name 
behind us. 

DR. JOHNSON. 



LIVE HOLILY, DIE SAFELY. 
To live holily is the way to die safely, happily. If death be 
terrible, yet innocence is bold, and will neither fear itself nor let 
us fear; where, contrariwise, wickedness is cowardly, and cannot 
abide any glimpse of light or show of danger. 

BISHOP HALL. 

Dost thou know who speaks to thee ? 

Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, — 

And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



DEATH. 



191 



THE GRAVE BUT A TRANSIENT RESTING-PLACE. 

What is death ? 
No tyrant now, but servant, whose chief task 

Is to unbind 
The chains by which the children of the King 

Are here confined. 

For since Christ's body rose from out the tomb, 

And sought the skies, 
So the whole race of man now joined to Him, 

Like Him must rise. 

Oh ! false ungrateful words to call the grave 

Man's long last home ! 
'Tis but a lodging held from week to week. 

Till Christ shall come. 

It is a store of which Christ keeps the key, 

Where in each cell 
Are laid in hope the vestments of the souls 

He loves so well. 

And when He comes upon His marriage morn. 

In light arrayed. 
He will invest His own in the same forms, 

All glorious made. 

Save us, for we are Thine, by bond and pledge ; 

To Thee we trust 
That which we hold most precious when we say, 

**Dust unto dust." 

The Ho7nilist. 



'Tis the cessation of our breath. 

Silent and motionless we lie : 

And no one knoweth more than this. 

LONGFELLOW. 



The breathing miracle into silence passed. 

GERALD MASSEY. 



192 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE PROSPECT CLEAR. 

Death's dark shades 
Seem, as we journey on, to lose their horror ; 
At near approach, the monsters formed by fear 
Are vanished all, and leave the prospect clear. 

ROWE. 



IN GQD'S VIEW BLESSED. 

A DEATH which in man's view is calamitous, is, in God's 
view, blessed; provided it be a death **in the Lord neither 
the manner nor the moment of the death is to be taken into con- 
sideration ; violence and suddenness do not assail its blessed- 
ness ; but wherever a child ot God has departed, and under 
whatever circumstances, the voice from heaven bears its uniform 
and unfaltering attestation, Blessed are the dead." When, 
therefore, we see a vigorous and valued life suddenly broken off 
from all its earnest purposes and active pursuits, and are tempted, 
in such a case, to regard death as premature and unhappy, let 
us call to mind the testimony which St. John was commanded 
to record — a testimony which no imwonted circumstances, how- 
ever painful, attending the decease of a Christian can modify or 
change — a testimony which, in any such case, must allay the 
anguish of bereavement, and sustain our confidence amidst the 
darkness of the divine dispensations. 

REV. THOMAS HILL. 



PASSING AWAY. 

It is written on the rose, 

In its glory's full array ; 
Read what those buds disclose — 

"Passing away." 

It is written on the skies 

Of the soft blue summer day ; 
It is traced on sunset's dyes — 

''Passing away." 



DEATH. 



193 



It is written on the trees, 

As their young leaves ghstening play, 
And on brighter things than these — 

" Passing away." 
It is written on the brow, 

Where the spirit's ardent ray 
Lives, bums, and triumphs now — 

Passing away." 
It is written on the heart, 
Alas I that there decay 
Should claim from love a part — 

Passing away." 
Friends ! friends ! — oh ! shall we meet 

In a land of purer day 
Where lovely things and sweet 

Pass not away ? 
Shall we know each other's eyes, 

And the thoughts that in them lay, 
When ^VQ mingled sympathies 

Passing away." 

Oh ! if this may be so. 

Speed, speed, thou closing day ! 
How blest from earth's vain show 
To pass away ! 

AIRS. HEMANS. 



Be ye therefore ready, for the Son of Man com.eth in an hour 
vvhen ye think not. — Luke xii. 40. 



THE ACTIONS OF THE JUST. 
All heads must come 
To the cold tomb ; 
Only the actions of the just 
Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust. 

JAMES SHIRLEY. 

Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immortality. 

JEAN PAUL RICHTER. 

O 



194 



GONE BEFORE. 



A DEATH-BED IS A WONDERFUL REASOXER. 

A DEATH-BED is a wondei'ful reasoner; many a proud infidel 
hath it humbled and refuted without a word, who but a short 
time before would have defied all the ability of man to shake 
the foundation of his system. All is well as long as the curtain 
is up, and the puppet-show of life goes on ; but when the rapid 
representation draws to a close, and ever}- hope of longer respite 
is precluded, things will appear in a very dilterent light. Would 
to God I could say that that great and awful moment were as 
often distinguished by the dew of repentance as by the groan of 
despair. 

HON. ROET. EOYLE. 



THE THORN OF EVERY ROSE OF EARTHLY 
BLOOM. 

^La.n tried a thousand schemes 

To ward thy blow, or hide thee from his eye ; 

But still thy gloomy terrors, dipped in sin, 

Before him frowned, and withered all his joy. 

Still, feared and hated thing, thy ghostly shape 

Stood in his avenues of fairest hope ; 

L'nmannerly, and uninvited, crept 

Into his haunts of most select delight ; 

Still, on his halls of mirth and banqueting, 

And reveln.', thy shadowy hand was seen 

\Yriting thy name of — Death. Yile worm, that gnawed 

The root of all his happiness terrene ; the gall 

Of all his sweet ; the thorn of ever}- rose 

Of earthly bloom ; cloud of his noonday sky ; 

Frost of his spring ; sigh of his loudest laugh 

Dark spot on ever}- form of lovehness ; 

Harsh dissonance of all his harmony ; 

Reserve of every promise, and the " IF 

Of all to-morrows. 

ROBERT POLLOKL, 



DEATH. 



195 



A MESSAGE FROM ABOVE. 

FOR a message from above 
To bear my spirit up ! 

Some pledge of my Creator's love 
To calm my terrors and support my hope ; 

Let waves and thunders mix and roar ; 
Be thou my God, and the whole world is mine ; 
While Thou art Sovereign, I'm secure : 

1 shall be rich till Thou art poor ; 

For all I fear, and all I wish, Heaven, Earth, and Hell, 
are Thine, 

DR. WATTS. 



God caring for us we are strong to live ; with God near us, we 
are strong to die. 

REV. THOMAS JONES. 



THE CALM IMPRESS OF THAT HOLY SLEEP. 

The dead ! the sainted dead ! why should we weep 
At the last change their settled features take? 
At the calm impress of that holy sleep 
Which care and sorrow never more shall break ? 
Believe we not His word who rends the tomb. 
And bids the slumberers from that transient gloom 
In their Redeemer's glorious image wake ? 
Approach we not the same sepulchral bourne 
S^vift as the shadow fleets ? — What time have we to 
mourn ? 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



A DEATH-BED'S A DETECTOR OF THE HEART. 

The chamber where the good man meets his fate 

Is privileged beyond the common walk 

Of virtuous life, quite on the verge of heaven. 



196 



GONE BEFORE. 



Here — resistless demonstration d\Yells : 

A death- bed's a detector of the heart. 

Here tired Dissimulation drops her mask 

Through life's grimace, that mistress of the scene ; 

Here real, and apparent are the same, 

You see the man, you see his hold on heaven, 

If sound his virtue ; 

Heaven waits not the last moment ; owns her friends 
On this side death, and points them out to men ; 
A lecture silent, but of sovereign power ! 
To vice confusion, and to virtue peace. 
Virtue alone has majesty m death ! 

EDWARD YOUNG. 



THINK ON DEATH. 

Oh ! thou, whoever thou art, that art tempted to commit 
sin, do thou think on death, and that thought will be an angel 
to thee ! The hope of heaven will raise thy courage above the 
fiercest threatenings of the world ; the fear of hell vdll rob its 
persuasions of their enchantments : and the very extremity of 
thy trial may itself contribute to animate thy exertions, by the 
thought that the greater thy endurance here, the greater will be 
thy reward hereafter. 

BISHOP HEBER. 



Help us, O Lord our God, for we rest on Thee. — 2 Chron. 
xiv. II. 

Thanks be unto God which giveth us the victory through our 
Lord Jesus Christ. — I Cor. xv. 57. 

THE DEAD WHO DIE IN CHRIST ARE BLEST. 

Hail, heavenly voice, once heard in Patmos ! Write, 
Henceforth the dead who die in Christ are blest : 
Yea, saith the Spirit, for they now shall rest 

From all their labours ! " But no dull, dark night 



DEATH. 



197 



That rest o'ersliadows : 'tis the day-spring bright 

Of bliss ; the foretaste of a richer feast ; 

A sleep, if sleep it be, of lively zest, 
Peopled with visions of intense delight. 
And though the secrets of that resting-place 

The soul embodied knows not ; yet she knows 
No sin is there God's likeness to deface, 

To stint His love ; no purgatorial woes, 
Her dross is left behind, nor mixture base 

Mars the pure stream of her serene repose. 

BISHOP MANT. 

THRICE WELCOME DEATH ! 

Thrice welcome death ! 
That, after many a painful, bleeding step, 
Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe 
On the long wished-for shore ! Prodigious change ! 
Our bane turned to our blessing ! Death, disarmed, 
Loses his fellness quite. All thanks to Him 
Who scourged the venom out ! 

ROBERT BI.AIR. 



Here is the patience of the saints ; here are they that keep 
the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. I heard a 
voice from heaven saying unto me. Write, Blessed are the dead 
which die in the Lord, from henceforth. Yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow 
them. — Rev. xiv. 12, 13. 

There the wicked cease from troubling ; and there the weary 
be at rest. — ^Job iii. 17. 



THE DEAD '^N THE LORD" REST. 

The dead * * in the Lord " rest, and therefore they are blessed ; 
but we are not to conceive of the heaven of the redeemed as a 
heaven of superannuation and lethargy, where the world-wear)'- 



198 



GONE BEFORE. 



soul reposes in perpetual inaction. Such a heaven would not 
answer the aspirations of the soul aglow with divine love, and 
dowered with faculties which demand to be exercised on con- 
genial objects. The weariest unrest is in inaction, and the truest 
tranquillity of the spirit of man is to be enjoyed in the active 
exercise of his faculties in the service of the Lord. Such is the 
rest of heaven. Death is the ascent of the spirit to its highest 
service, with revived and enlarged faculties, baptized as with 
fire, to work no longer under the eye of an invisible Master, but 
under His immediate command and His seen approving smile. 

REV. THOMAS HILL. 



O DEATH, WHAT ART THOU? 

O Death, what art thou ? A lawgiver that never altereth, 
Fixing the consummating seal, whereby the deeds of life become 
established : 

O Death, what art thou ? A stem and silent usher, 
Leadmg to the judgment for eternity, after the trial scene of Time : 
O Death, what art thou? The husbandman, that reapeth 
always 

Out of season, as in season, with a sickle in his hand : 

O Death, what art thou ? The shadow unto every substance. 

In the bower as in the battle, haunting night and day : 

O Death, what art thou ? Nurse of dreamless slumbers. 

Freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal : 

O Death, what art thou ? Strange and solemn alchymist, 

Elaborating life's elixir from these clayey crucibles : 

O Death, what art thou ? Antitype of nature's marvels, 

The seed and dormant chrysalis bursting into energy and glory. 

Thou calm safe anchorage for the shattered hulls of men, — 

Thou spot of gelid shade, after the hot-breathed desert, — 

Thou silent waiting-hall, where Adam meeteth with his children, — 

How full of dread, how full of hope, loometh inevitable Death : 

Of dread, for all have sinned ; of hope, for One hath saved : 

The dread is drowned in joy, the hope is filled with immortality ! 

— Pass along, pilgrim of life, go to thy grave unfearing, 

The terrors are but shadows now that haunt the vale of Death. 

M. F. TUPPER. 



DEATH. 



199 



TO DIE IS TO BEGIN TO LIVE. 

To die is to begin to live : it is to end 
An old stale weary work, and to commence 
A newer and a better : 'tis to leave 
Deceitful knaves for the society 
Of Gods and goodness. 

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 



THOU STRANGE, MYSTERIOUS PO^YER. 

O Death ! thou strange, mysterious power, seen 
Every day, yet never understood but by the 
Incommunicative dead, what art thou ? 

GEORGE LILLO. 



How the wretched love to think of thee 
O thou true comforter, the friend of all 
Who have no friend beside. 

SOUTHEY. 



Death is a friend of ours ; and he that is not ready to entertain 
him is not at home. 

LORD bacon. 



It is remarkable that death increases our veneration for the 
good, and extenuates our hatred of the bad. 

DR. JOHNSON. 



Man makes a death which Nature never made. 

EDWARD YOUNG. 



GONE BEFORE. 



DEATH THE CURE FOR LIFE. 

,0 Death ! thou pleasing end of human woe ! 
Thou cure for life ! Thou greatest good below ! 
Still mayest thou fly the coward, and the slave, 
And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave. 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

IS IT NOT GOD'S DEED. 

Is it not God's deed whatever thing is done 
In heaven and earth ? Did not He all create 
To die again ? all ends that were begun ; 
Their times in His eternal books of fate 
Are written sure, and have their certam date. 
Who then can strive with strong necessity, 
That holds the world in his still changing state ? 
Or shun the death ordained by destiny ? 
When hour of death is come, let none ask whence 
or why. 

SPENSER. 

Oh let me die his death ! all nature cries. 
Then live his life ! — all nature falters there. 

EDWARD YOUNG. 

THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 
Go, child of darkness ! see a Christian die ! 
No horror pales his lips, or dims his eye ; 
No fiend-shaped phantoms of destruction start 
The hope Religion pillows on his heart. 
W^hen, with a faltering hand, he waves adieu 
To all who love so well, and weep so true ; 
Meek as an infant to the mother's breast 
Turns, fondly longing for its wonted rest, 
He pants for where congenial spirits stray. 
Turns to his God, and sighs his soul away. 

REV. R. MONTGOMERY^ 



DEATH. 



201 



THE MIGHTIEST OF THE THINGS UNSEEN 
SAVE ONE. 
O Death ! thou great invisible, 

Pale monarch of the unending Past, 
Who shall thy countless trophies tell, 

Or when shall be thy last ? 
By thee high thrones to earth are flung — 

By thee the sword and sceptre rust — 
By thee the beautiful and young 

Lie mouldering in the dust. 
Into thy cold and faded reign 

All glorious things of earth depart ; 
The fairest forms are early slain, 

And quenched the fiery heart. 
But in yon world thou hast not been, 

Where joy can fade, nor beauty fall ; 
O, mightiest of the things unseen 

Save One that ruleth all ! 

REV. G. H. COLTON. 



LET ME DIE THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

In the article of Death, the righteous have glorious preroga- 
tives. The truth of this principle is generally admitted. We 
do not hear men exclaiming, *'Let me die the death of the 
philosopher ! " in whatever terms they express their admiration 
of his talents, his experiments, and his discoveries; or, **Let 
me die the death of the warrior I " with whatever ardour they 
celebrate his martial virtues and his military achievements ; or, 
' ' Let me die the death of the statesman ! " whatever encomium 
they may be disposed to pass on his political abilities. No — 
their language is, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and 
let my last end be like his." 

THOMAS FULLER 

DEATH GIVES FREEDOM. 

The soul in these poor bodies does not act to the utmost 
extent its nature is capable of. It is like a bird, that, let out. 



202 



GONE BEFORE. 



enjoys a ^vhole world of liberty, but not before. There is a kind 
of immensity in the soul, and this is one part of God's image; 
but it is straitened in these bodies that it cannot act to such an ex- 
tensiveness. As the river is straitened \^ithin its banks till it falls 
into the ocean, so the soul here is straitened by ignorance, in« 
firmities, pressures; but at death it slips into the ocean of eternity, 
where there is no more straightness. 

DR. LIGHTFOOT. 

THE FLIGHT OF THE SOUL. 

The flight through immensity is made in the twinkling of an 
eye ; " the pilgrimage to the spheres occupies but a moment. 
There is no waiting for a celestial convoy. A troop of angelic 
beings, unseen, crowd the chamber of death, and are ready, with 
outstretched wings, to bear the spirit home to God immediately 
on its emancipation from the flesh ; the last quiver passed from 
the bloodless lip, the last breath sighed out, and, swifter than the 
beams of the morning, or the flash of the lightning, they tower 
with it to glory. 

REV. EDWIN DAVIES. 



OUR DESTINY. 

I was born to die : 
Tis but expanding thought, and life is nothing. 

ROWE. 

What man is he that liveth and shall not see death ? 
Shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave ? — Psalm 
Ixxxix. 48. 

"Like sheep they are laid in the grave ; death shall feed on 
them, and the upright shall have dominion over them in the 
mom, and their beauty shall consume in the grave from their 
dwelling. But God will redeem my soul from the power of the 
grave : for He shall receive me. — Psalm xlix. 14, 15- 

" All the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my 
change come. — ^Job xiv. 14. . 



DEATH. 



203 



THE HEALER OF EVERY WOUND. 
Roll round, strange years ; swift seasons, come and go ; 

Ye leave upon us but an outward sign, 

Ye cannot touch the inward and divine, 
\Yhile God alone does know ; 

There sealed till summers, winters, all shall cease 

In His deep peace. 

Therefore uprouse, ye winds, and howl your will ; 

Beat, beat, ye sobbing rains, on pane and door ; 

Enter, slow-footed age, and thou, obscure 
Great angel — not of ill ; 

Healer of every wound, where'er thou come. 

Glad, we'll go home. 

DINAH MULOCH. 



ONLY PARTED FROM THEM FOR A TIME. 

Those who fall asleep in Jesus are not lost to those that sur- 
vive them. They are only parted from them for a time, to meet 
again, and to meet at home. They are no more lost than a dear 
friend is lost who goes home before us, after we have sojourned 
at a distance, and whom we are soon to follow, and know where 
to find. But to our society, our counsels, our plans, and our 
labours here below, thty are lost ; and the loss will be deeply and 
lastingly felt, in proportion to the greatness of the excellencies 
by which they were in life distinguished and endeared. 

W. LEGG. 



COLD AXD LOXELY. 

Even to the best, the wise, and pure, and pious. 
Death, repulsive king, thine iron rule is terrible; 
Yea, and even at the best, in company of buried kindred, 
^Yith hallo^ving rites, and friendly tears, and the dear old country 
church, 



204 



GONE BEFORE. 



Death, cold and lonely, tliy frigid face is hateful, 
The bravest look on thee with dread, the humblest curse thy 
coming. 

Still, ye unwise among mankind, your foolishness hath added 
fears ; 

The crowded cemetery, the catacomb of bones, the pestilential 
vault. 

With fancy's gliding ghost at eve, her moans, and flaky footfalls. 
And the gibbering train of ten'or to fright your coward hearts. 
We speak not here of sin, nor the phantomsofabloody conscience, 
Nor of solaces, and merciful pardon : we heed but the inevitable 
grave, 

The grave, the wage of guilt, that due return to dust. 
The grave, the gaol of earth, and starting-post for heaven. 

M. F. TUPPER. 



WHAT IS IT BUT A WELCOME CHANGE? 

To die — what is it but to sleep and sleep. 

Nor feel the weariness of dark delay 

Through the long night of time, and nothing know 

Of intervening centuries elapsed. 

When thy sweet mom. Eternity, begins ? 

Or else — what is it but a welcome change 

From worse to better, from a world of pain 

To one where flesh at least can nothing feel, 

And pain and pleasure have no equal sway? 

What is it but to meet ten thousand friends. 

Whose earthly race was finished ere our o\ra, 

And be well welcome, where the tim'rous foot 

Feared to intrude, and whence no foot returns ? 

JAMES HURDIS, D.D. 

LIFE AND DEATH. 

Death doth lurk always in life's delicious cup, 
The mulberr}^ leaf must bear the biting of a worm, 
That so it may be raised to wear its silken form. 

ruckert. 



DEATH. 



2u5 



OH I CHANGE— STUPENDOUS CHANGE ! 

Tread softly I bow the head- 
In reverent silence bow ! 

No passing bell doth toll ; 

Yet an immortal soul 
Is passing now. 

Stranger, however great, 

With lowly reverence bow I 
There's one in that poor shed — 
One by that paltry bed — 

Greater than thou. 

Beneath that beggar's roof, 

Lo ! Death doth keep his state ! 

Enter ! — no crowds attend — 

Enter I — no guards defend 
This palace gate. 

That pavement, damp and cold, 

No smiling courtiers tread ; 
One silent woman stands, 
Lifting vdth meagre hands 

A dying head. 

No mingling voices sound — 

An infant wail alone ; 
A sob suppress'd — again 
That short deep gasp— and then 

The parting groan ! 

Oh I change— Oh ! wondrous change 

Burst are the prison bars ! 
This moment there, so low, 
So agonized — and now 

Beyond the stars ! 

Oh I change — stupendous change ! 

There lies the soulless clod ! 
The sun eternal breaks ; 
The new immortal wakes — 

Wakes with his God. 

MRS. SOUTHEY. 



206 



GONE BEFORE 



PASSING FROM DARK TO LIGHT. 
Death to a good man is but passing through a dark entry, 
out of one little dusky room of his father's house into another 
which is fair and large, lightsome and glorious, and divinely en- 
tertaining. Oh, may the rays and splendours of my heavenly 
apartments shoot far downward, and gild the dark entry with 
such a cheerful gleam as to banish every fear when I shall be 
called to pass through ! 

DR. WATTS. 



Jesus Himself, the beloved Son of God, went not to His 
glory, but through the gates of death. 

WILLIAM WASSE, LL.D. 



THE GATE OF JOY TO THE BELIEVER. 

Death, to the saints, is not so much a penalty as it is a 
remedy. It delivers them up, and lets them into such joys as 
** eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath entered into the 
heart of man to conceive." Yea, a man may as well with a coal 
paint out the sun in all its splendour, as with his pen or tongue 
express, or wdth his heart, were it deep as the sea, conceive the 
fulness of those joys, and sweetness of those pleasures which the 
saints shall enjoy at God's right hand for evermore. For quality, 
they have pleasures ; for quantity, fulness ; for dignity, at God's 
right hand ; for eternity, for evermore ; and, millions of years 
multiplied by millions, make not up a minute to this eternity. 

younge. 



DEATH SPEAKETH TO THE HEART. 
The clay that is moistened sends back no sound. Yes, death 
is silent to the ear, but it ever speaketh to the heart. 

henry GILES. 



DEATH. 



207 



DEATH HATH NO POWER OVER THE SOUL. 

Death has no dominion over the soul. It can but touch the 
outer and the coarser part of our nature. It can take down the 
tabernacle in which the spirit has had a temporary abode, but 
the spirit turns aside his shaft and smiles at eveiy effort of his 
power. All the laws and all the operations of our spiritual 
nature lead us to the conclusion that the moment of death is the 
moment of still higher mental and moral consciousness. It is 
true that in death we fall asleep, but it is the repose of that part 
of our humanity which has become exhausted, and nothing more; 
The grave is the sanctified couch in which we lay down the 
worn-out garment of the flesh ; for the spirit has winged her 
flight where all her powers are called into still higher activity ; 
and where her consciousness is ever being augmented and 
heightened. 

ROBERT FERGUSON, D.D, 



DEATH AN ANGEL FROM GOD. 

With what a marvellous vigour can the soul 
Put forth its hidden strength, looking at Death 
As at an angel from the courts of God ! 
And with what beauty at the closing hour 
Will childhood's sweet aflections blossom out ! 

R. C. WATERSON. 



GENTLE DEATH ! 

Death ! most desired, most lovely. To my ear 

The very sound is soothing, When alone, 
As a fond lover breathes the name most dear, 

Sinking his accents to' their softest tone ; 
Even so, amid deep silence, oft do I 

Utter thy name with hushed and trembling breath ; 
And, listening to the night-winds rushing by, 

Await in vain an answer — gentle Death I 



208 



GONE BEFORE. 



How lovely must thou be ! Though some may fear 

To approach thee, and unveil thy hidden face, 
Thy beauty maddens those who gaze more near. 

And thousands rush through crime to thy embrace. 
Thy lovers are the young, the passionate. 

The hearts that beat too quickly, who repine 
Through years of suffering and decay to wait, 

But snatch with eager haste at charms like thine 1 

Thou art a dangerous rival ! and for thee 

The fairest are abandoned. Thou art known 
To draw even Love from his fidelity, 

Making the beautiful and loved thine own. 
The golden portals of eternity 

Are in thy keeping ; and thy thoughts must blend 
With every wish and aspiration high. 

That can from human hearts to heaven ascend. 

Faith — Courage — Love ! What are they until Death 

Stamps them with Truth's irrevocable seal ? 
Mere words, depending on man's changing breath, 

Falsehoods the morrow may perhaps reveal. 
But thou art merciful ; and in the hour 

Of mortal trial oft wilt interpose 
To place our virtue beyond frailty's power, 

Or shelter in the grave our guilt and woe's ? 

Thou art the truth, — the certainty, — the hope 

Of our mysterious being. Who could bear 
With their own passions and the world to cope 

In life's fierce warfare, if Thou wert not there 
Awaiting, like a mother, to whose breast. 

When all the tumults of the daytime cease, 
She takes her wearied children to their rest — 

Enfolds them gently there— and whispers, Peace ! 

MRS. TORRE HOLMES. 



DEATH. 



209 



COMFORT IN PRAYER. 
Let impatience (of pain) be quickly over. If we cannot 
master it by ourselves, let us take it with us to God, and under 

the sense of His embracement it will not abide 

Modify both action and passion prayer assuredly does. It 
assuages calamity, excites hope, encourages endeavour, gives the 
feelings a link -wdth heaven, both humble and exalted, animating 

and making patient How can we think of God as 

a Father and not pray to Him ? Not ask Him for help and 
expect even to receive it ? ]\Iodestly, indeed, as children ask 
favours of an earthly father ; and prepared as modestly for dis- 
appointment, knowing His wisdom Suffering may 

sometimes be looked upon as one of the favours of God, and the 
beholders may justly think so, in proportion as the sufferer is great 
enough to deserve the opinion, and too modest to entertain it. 

LEIGH HUNT. 

THOU SEEMEST STRANGELY NEAR. 

What spirit is it that doth pervade 

The silence of this empty room ? 
And as I lift my eyes, what shade 

Glides off and vanishes in gloom ? 
I could believe, this moment gone, 

A knoA\TL form filled that vacant chair ; 
That those kind eyes upon me shone 

I never shall see any^vhere ! 
The living are so far away : 

But thou^ — thou seemest strangely near : 
ELnowest all my silent heart would say. 

Its peace, its pain, its hope, its fear. 
And from thy calm supernal height, 

And wondrous msdom newly won, 
Smilest upon our poor delight 

And petty woe beneath the sun. 
From all this coil thou hast slipt away, 

As softly as a cloud departs 
Along the hill-side purple-grey — 

Into the heaven of patient hearts : 
P 



210 



GONE BEFORE. 



Nothing here suffered, nothing missed, 

Will ever stir from its repose 
The death-smile on her lips unkissed, 

Who all things loves and all things knows, 

DINAH MULOCH. 

DEATH NOT FEARFUL. 

Death ever fronts the ^^-ise 
Not fearfully, but ^\dth clear promises 
Of larger life, on whose broad vans upborne, 
Their out-look widens, and they see beyond 
The horizon of the Present and the Past, 
Even to the very source and end of things. 

J. R. LOWELL. 



JOY IN DEATH'S MONITORY GLANCE. 

Since 'tis certain then that we must die. 
No hope, no chance, no prospect of redress, 
Be it our constant aim unswervingly 
To tread God's narrow path of holiness : 
For He is first, last, midst, — O let us press 
Onwards, and when death's monitory glance 
Shall summon us to join his mortal dance. 
Even then shall hope and joy our footsteps bless. 

LEON DE CARRION. 



I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand 
at the latter day upon the earth ; and though after my skin 
worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God : 
Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not 
another. — ^Job xix. 25 — 27. 

Ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, 
even we ourselves groan ^\^[thin ourselves, waiting for the adop- 
tion, to wit, the redemption of our body. — Rom. viii. 23. 

The Lord redeemeth the souls of His servants." — Psa.xxxiy. 22, 



DEATH. 



211 



A DARK ENTRANCE INTO MARVELLOUS LIGHT. 

It is appointed unto all men once to die ; and therefore death 
visits the splendid palace of the great as well as the humble 
cottage of the poor. He pays no respect to rank or age, but 
demands an instant compliance to his unwelcome mandate — 
requiring an immediate separation of the soul from the body — 
commanding the former to appear before the Judge of quick and 
dead, to render an account of all the deeds done in the body," 
its frail tenement of clay, and partner in sin and sorrow ; while 
the latter^ with all its fancied dignity and proud humanity, he 
consigns to its original dust, there to await the summons of the 
archangel at the general resurrection. How needful then is it, 
that we should diligently seek after that 'Svisdom which is from 
above," and, through divine grace, be enabled to adopt the lan- 
guage of the Psalmist, and say, " Thou shalt guide me with Thy 
counsel, and afterward receive me to glory!" . . . The fear 
of death is no uncommon fear — it has been the worm at the root 
of many a good man's comfort, and the unwelcome companion 
of a long life. Death is a gloomy state, but to the Christian it 
is only a dark entrance into marvellous light. Possessed with 
this persuasion the Psalmist could say, " Though I walk through 
the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou 
art with me." The unseen hand will maintain its hold, and the 
voice of the almighty Saviour will then console him, saying, 
" Fear not, I am with thee," — as the Deliverer from tears, from 
crying, from sorrow, from pain, and from death — a transition 
from all things common to this mortal state, and an entrance 
^' into the joy of our Lord. " For this thrice happy state may we 
all be divinely prepared by the God of grace and glory, and 
guided by His Holy Spirit, while we travel through this fleeting 
world looking solely to Jesus Christ, '^the Bright and Morning 
Star, " the Author and Finisher of our salvation. 

REV. DR. VAUGHAN. 



Seek Him that turneth the shadow of death into the morn- 
ing—The Lord is his name. — Amos v. 8. 



212 



GONE BEFORE. 



PEACE. 

The last tear shed, the last sigh uttered, the last pain endured, 
all sin blotted out, and perfection in holiness, the days of your 
mourning are ended, you have nothing to fear, if you have peace 
through the blood of the Lamb, and gloiy only in the cross of 
our Lord Jesus Christ. 

REV. W. B. BUCKE, M.A. 



WEEP NOT EOR ME. 

When the spark of hfe is waning, 

Weep not for me ; 
When the languid eye is straining, 

Weep not for me : 
When the feeble pulse is ceasmg, 
Stait not at its swift decreasing ; 
'Tis the fettered soul's releasing — 

Weep not for me. 

When the pangs of death assail me, 

Weep not for me : 
Christ is mine — He cannot fail me, 

Weep not for me : 
Yes, though sin and doubt endeavour 
From His love my soul to sever, 
yesus is my strength for ever. 

Weep not for me. 

CAXOX DALE. 

THE LESS OF THIS COLD WORLD, THE MORE OF 
HEAVEX 

It matters not at what hour of the day 

The righteous fall asleep ; death cannot come 

To him untimely who is fit to die ; 

The less of this cold world, the more of heaven — 

The briefer life, the earlier immoitality ! 



DEAN MILMAX. 



DEATH. 



213 



WE ALL MUST DIE. 
We all know that we must die ! God, for our improvement, 
gives us daily warnings. Everything around us speaks of disso- 
lution. The falling leaf — the passing cloud — the bursting bubble 
— the expiring wave — the setting sun — the sunken moon — yea, 
all nature turns us to the end of animate and inanimate objects. 
And when we fail to observe nature, death enters the domestic 
circle, and ^^Tenches from our arms the fondest object of our 
affections — blasts it before our eyes — withers it when, perhaps, 
it appears in the greatest vigour, or else gradually turns it into 
corruption ; experience shows us the melancholy truth, and 
Scripture teaches that the same object that was buried shall 
revive — shall burst into incorruption and glory. This know- 
ledge imparts consolation to us when we witness the decease of 
a friend or relative — the departure of the soul from the body of 
him, or her whom we loved. We watch the sinking countenance, 
the pale look, the glazing eye, and then the falling jaw, and last 
of all the lifeless corpse. We grieve, we lament, we sorrow, 
but not as men \A'ithout hope ; faith teaches us that the same eye 
we saw fixed shall one day be animated— that the same tongue 
that gave its last blessing shall sing around the throne the songs 
of praise — that the same soul that ^^dnged its way to heaven 
shall be united to the same body that was lowered in the grave ; 
and thus the living, comforted, and with a holy fear and a perfect 
resignation, can exclaim, * ' The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." . . . And 
then, when the resurrection mom dawns, there shall be the 
heavenly sound, the angels' song, the hosanna in the highest ; 
the celestial host praising God— the very recesses of God's 
kingdom thrown open to every believer. Oh ! press on, and 
journey on rejoicing through this vale of tears; you shall again 
see the departed ; the child of your love shall again bloom like 
the unfading flowers in the paradise of God ; the husband, or the 
wife of your bosom whom death may have taken from you shall 
meet you, and know you, and live with you for ever. All your 
former kinsmen, all your friends shall rejoice with you, and the 
Saviour of the world shall welcome you, and say, " Come, ye 
blessed of My Father, enter ye into the joy of the Lord." 

REV. E. THOMPSON, D.D. 



214 



GONE BEFORE. 



DEATH THE ENTRANCE TO LIFE. 
The difference, in point of time, between dying and having 
died, is merely that of a moment ; the believer no sooner meeting 
death, than death ceases to be death to him : it is rather the gate 
standing at the entrance to those blissful scenes, whence itself 
shall be for ever excluded. 

VERY REV. H. B. MOFFAT. 

Death's but a path that must be trod 
If man would ever pass to God. 

PARNELL. 

PEACEFUL DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
Remember, the happy peaceful death of the righteous man 
can only be obtained or hoped for by those who have lived the 
life of the righteous. Remember that every guilty compliance 
with the humours of the world, every sinful indulgence of our 
own passions, is laying up cares and fears for the hour of dark- 
ness ; and that the remembrance of ill-spent time will strew our 
sick bed with thorns, and rack our sinking spirits with despair ! 

BISHOP heber. 

Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
be like his ! — Numb, xxiii. lo. 

The righteous hath hope in his death. — Prov. xiv. 32. 

Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end 
of that man is peace. — Psa. xxxvii. 37. 

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. 
— Psa. cxvi. 15. 

Absent from the body — present with the Lord; having a 
desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better. — 
Phil. i. 23. 

Mortality swallowed up of life. — 2 Cor., v. 4. 

Leaning on Thee, no fear alarms ; 

Calmly I stand on death's dark brink ; 
I feel ' ' the everlasting arms, " 

I cannot sink. 
Hymns selected by REV. J. C. RYLE, B.A. 



DEATH. 



215 



O GRAVE ! WHERE IS THY VICTORY ? 

Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, O quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying. 
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life. 

Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, 
Sister spirit, come away. 
What is this absorbs me quite ? 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight ? 
Dro'v^ms my spirit, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? 

The world recedes ; it disappears ! 

Heaven opens on my eyes !— my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring ! 

Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 

O grave ! where is thy victory ? 

O death ! where is thy sting ? 



POPE. 



ASLEEP IN JESUS. 

Asleep in Jesus ! blessed sleep. 
From which none ever wakes to weep, 
A calm and undisturbed repose, 
Unbroken by the last of foes ! 

Asleep in Jesus ! oh, how sweet 

To be for such a slumber meet ! 

With holy confidence to sing 

That death hath lost his venomed sting. 

Asleep in Jesus ! peaceful rest. 
Whose waking is supremely blest ; 
No fear, no woe, shall dim that hour 
That manifests the Saviour's power. 



213 



GONE BEFORE. 



Asleep in Jesus ! oh, for me 
May such a blissful refuge be ! 
Securely shall my ashes lie, 
Waiting the summons from on high. 

Asleep in Jesus ! time nor space 
Debars this precious "hiding-place;" 
On Indian plains, or Lapland snows, 
Believers find the same repose. 

Asleep in Jesus ! far from thee 
Thy kindred and their graves may be ; 
But thine is still a blessed sleep. 
From which none ever wakes to weep ! 

MARGARET MACKAY. 



BURSTING GLORIOUS FROM THE SILENT CLAY. 

To grow immortal, into life we die ! 
What though the path be dark that must be trod, 
Though man be blotted from the works of God, 
Though the four winds his scattered atoms bear 
To earth's extremes, thro' all the expanse of air ? 
Yet, bursting glorious from the silent clay. 
He mounts triumphant to eternal day ! 

REV. ARTHUR BROOME. 



THE ULTIMATE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY. 

The body, which we look upon as the casket of the soul, 
although doomed to perish, and its particles to be scattered, will 
one day be raised up to newness of life by the same master Hand 
that directs the sun in his journey or the grub to spring into a 
flying insect with colours equal to those of the bow. 

REV. E. THOMPSON, D.D. 

DEATH ! THOU ART NO KING ! 
Death ! king of terrors, thou art no king in thy Conqueror's 
presence ! In Christ's presence. Death drops his dart. As Christ 



DEATH. 



217 



puts on His crown, Death puts off his. As Christ assumes His 
glory, Death divests himself of his terrors ; still, sometimes trans- 
ported with the view, the believer would spurn this earth, and 
on eagle's wings soar off to heaven. Paul's is his opinion, Paul's 
is his judgment ; *' to be absent from the body and to be present 
with the Lord" is far better. God give you such views of Christ ! 
Amen. 

REV. THOMAS GUTHRIE, D.D. 



Death falls heavy upon him who is too much known to 
others, and too little to himself. senega. 



THE FACE OF THE DEAD. 

There is something in the sight of a dead face which stirs 
the deepest feelings of the human heart. It is not easy to 
analyze this sentiment. It has in it wonder, terror, curiosity, 
and incredulity. It is a great, great lesson. No living tongue 
can say so much as those closed, pale, ice-cold lips, and they 
have smiled, jested, commanded. Light words have fallen 
from them. 

GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. 

Like sheep they are laid in the grave ; death shall feed on 
them ; and the upright shall have dominion over them in the 
morning ; and their beauty shall consume in the grave from 
their dwelling." — Psalm xlix. 14. 



LIGHT PRECEDING DEATH. 

In all ages the hour of death has been considered as an 
interval of more than ordinary illumination; as if some rays 
from the light of the approaching world had found their way to 
the darkness of the departing spirit, and revealed to it an exist- 
ence that could not terminate in the grave, but was to commence 
in death. 

CURRAN. 



218 



GONE BEFORE. 



GREAT HOUR OF ANSWERS TO LIFE'S PRAYER. 

O DEATH ! — dark hour to hopeless unbeHef ! — hour to which, 
in that creed of despair, no hour shall succeed ! being's last hour ! 
to whose appalling darkness even the shadows of an avenging 
retribution were brightness and relief. Death ! what art thou to 
the Christian's assurance ? Great hour of answers to life's prayer 
— great hour that shall break asunder the bond of life's ministry 
— ^hour of release from life's burden — hour of reunion with the 
loved and lost — what mighty hopes hasten to their fulfilment in 
thee ! What longings, what aspirations, breathed in the still 
night, beneath the silent stars — what dread emotions of curiosity 
— what deep meditations of joy — what hallowed imaginings of 
never experienced purity and bliss — what possibilities shadowing 
forth unspeakable realities to the soul, all verge to their con- 
summation in thee ! O death ! the Christian's death ! what art 
thou but the gate of life, the portal of heaven, the threshold of 
eternity! ** Thanks be to God," — let us say it, Christians, in 
the comforting words of Holy Scripture — thanks be to God, who 
giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. " 

REV. ORVILLE DEWEY, D.D. 



He will swallow up death in victory. — Isa. xxv. 8. 

Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the first- 
fruits of them that slept. So also is the resurrection of the dead. 
It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it is sown 
in dishonour, it is raised in glory ; it is sown in weakness, it is 
raised in power ; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual 
body. And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall 
also bear the image of the heavenly. — i Cor. xv. 20, 42 — 44, 49. 



SORROW. 



SORROW FOR THE DEAD. 

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we 
refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal — 
every other affliction to forget ; but this wound we consider it a 
duty to keep open — this affliction we cherish and brood over in 
solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the 
infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every 
recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly 
forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to 
lament ? Who, even m the hour of agony, would forget the friend 
over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing 
upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, 
as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal ; — who would 
accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness ? No, 
the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes 
of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights ; and 
when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle 
tear of recollection ; when the sudden anguish and the convulsive 
agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved is softened 
away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its 
loveliness — who would root out such a sorrow from the heart ? 
Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright 
hour of gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, 
yet who would exchange it, even for a song of pleasure, or the burst 
of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than 
song. There is a remembrance of the dead, to which we turn 
even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave ! — the grave ! 
It buries every error — covers every defect — extinguishes every re- 
sentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regret 
and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave 



220 



GONE BEFORE. 



even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb that he 
should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies 
mouldering before him ? 

But the grave of those we loved — what a place for meditation ! 
There it is that we call up, in long review, the whole history of 
virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments, lavished 
upon us — almost unheeded — in the daily intercourse of intimacy; 
there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness — the solemn awful 
tenderness of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all 
its stifled griefs — its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful 
assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring love I The feeble, 
fluttering, thrilling — oh, how thrilling! — pressure of the hand. 
The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us, even 
from the threshold of existence ! The faint, faltering accents, 
struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection ! 

Ay ! go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! There 
settle the account with thy conscience, for every past benefit un- 
requited — every past endearment unregarded — of that departed 
being who can never — never — never return, to be soothed by thy 
contrition ! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a soitow 
to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate 
parent, — if thou art r husband, and hast ever caused the fond 
bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt 
one moment of thy kindness or thy truth, — if thou art a friend, 
and hast ever wTonged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit 
that generously confided in thee, — if thou art a lover, and hast ever 
given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold 
and still beneath thy feet ; — then be sure that every unkind look, 
every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come throng- 
ing back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul ; 
then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on 
the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing 
tear — more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. 

Then weave thy chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties of 
nature about the grave ; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, 
with these tender yet futile tributes of regret ; but take warning 
by the bitterness of this thy contrite affliction over the dead, and 
henceforth be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of 
thy duties to the living. 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 



SORROW. 



221 



SORROW'S CROWN. 

This is truth the poet sings, 
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. 

TEXXYSON. 



BLESSED EFFECTS OF GRIEF. 

Grief hallows hearts, e'en while it ages heads. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

From his big heart, o'ercharged with, generous sorrow, 
See the tide working upward to his eye. 
And stealing from him in large silent drops, 
Without his leave* 

EDWARD YOUNG. 



There is God's rose for sorrow's thorn — 
'Tis not for long ! 

CHARLES SWAIN. 



He mourns the dead who lives as they desire. 

EDWARD YOUNG. 



INDULGE NOT IN EXCESSIVE SORROW. 

While loss is new we dread the comfort of forgetting ; it seems 
more cruel than any permanence of soitow ; but by and by we 
feel it wrong to brood ; selfish to cherish a grief that paralyzes us, 
heart and hand ; we forgive God that He has wounded us, and 
begin to pray that we may rise out of our sickness — and we do 
rise, and are presently healed. 

But I do not believe in forgetting, — as little do I believe in 
forgetting as in always grieving. Feeling has its rests and its 
pauses, but the once deeply felt, exists for ever. The place where 



222 



GONE BEFORE. 



a real trouble lies hushed will wake up now and then with, such a 
thrilling echo ! You may be sitting by the fireside alone, as I 
am now, or you may be out in the pleasant sun with nothing but 
hills and fields and heaven around you, or you may be in a mist 
of faces with music, and low laughter and whispered talk in the 
air, and suddenly without warning, out of space suddenly, smites 
the remembrance of the old pang with a dull physical anguish of 
the heart, and all the joy and sweetness of the present are banned 
away by the shadow of the past. 

HOLME LEE. 

What havoc hast thou made, foul monster Sin I 

Greatest and first of ills ! the fruitful parent 

Of woes of all dimensions ! but for thee 

Sorrow had never been ! HUGH blair. 



SORROW BEARS NO PROPORTION TO OUR 
MERCIES. 

Thousands have been my sins, and ten thousands my trans- 
gressions ; but my sanctifications have remained within me, and 
my heart, through thy grace, hath been an unquenched coal upon 
Thine altar. O Lord my strength, I have since my youth met 
with Thee, have been attended by Thee in all my ways ; by Thy 
fatherly compassions, by Thy comfortable (properly, that ^^•hich 
strengthens and sustains), and by Thy most visible providence. 
As Thy favours have increased upon me, so have Thy corrections; 
so that Thou hast been always near me, O Lord ; and ever as my 
worldly blessings were exalted, so secret darts from Thee have 
pierced me ! and when I have ascended before men, I have 
descended in humiliation before Thee. And now, when I have 
thought most of peace and honour. Thy hand is heavy upon me, 
and hath humbled me according to Thy former loving kindness ; 
keeping me still in Thy fatherly school, not as a bastard, but as a 
child. Just are Thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are 
more in number than the sands of the sea, but have no proportion 
to Thy mercies. For what are the sands of the sea, to the sea, 
earth, heavens ? And all these are nothing to Thy mercies. 

lord bacon. 



SORROW. 



223 



BASELESS FEARS BANISH HOPE. 

My fears and sorrows banished all my religious hope. All 
that former confidence in God which was founded on such won- 
derful experience as I had had of His goodness now vanished, as 
if He that had fed me by miracle hitherto could not preserve by 
His power the provision which He had made for me by His 
goodness. 

DANIEL DEFOE. 



GOOD LORD, REMEMBER ME. 

O Thou from whom all goodness flows, 

I lift my soul to Thee ; 
In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes. 

Good Lord, remember me. 

When on mine aching, burdened heart 

My sins lie heavily, 
My pardon speak, new peace impart. 

In love remember me. 

When trials sore obstruct my way. 

And ills I cannot flee. 
Lord, let my strength be as my day ; 

For good remember me. 

When worn with pain, disease, and grief. 

This feeble body see, 
Grant patience, rest, and kind relief ; 

Hear and remember me. 

If on my face, for Thy dear name. 

Shame and reproach shall be, 
All hail reproach, and welcome shame. 

If Thou remember me. 

When in the solemn hour of death 

I wait Thy just decree, 
Saviour, with my last parting breath 

I'll cry, "Remember me." 

THOMAS HAWEIS. 



224 



GONE BEFORE, 



THINE HELP. 
Let no trouble fall upon us greater than Thine help in us, but 
be Thou stronger in us than the temptation Thou sendest or 
lettest upon us, 

WM. TYNDALE. 

COUNSEL AND COMFORT OF GOD. 

Ye schul first in alle youre sorrowes mekely biseche to the hihe 
God that He wol be your counseilour ; and schape you to that 
entent that He give you counseil and comfort, as at alle tymes 
thou schelt blesse God, and pray Him to dresse thy wayes ; and 
loke that alle thi counseiles be in Him for evermore. 

GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 



THEREIN WE BETTER DISCERN GOD. 

Although the air which compasseth adversity be very 
obscure, yet therein we better discern God than in that shining 
light which environeth wordly glory ; through which, for the 
clearness thereof, there is no vanity which escapeth our sight. 
And let adversity seem what it will, to happy men ridiculous, 
and to those under the cross gi-ievous, yet this is true, that for 
all that is past, to th-e very instant, the portions remaining are 
equal to either. For be it that we have lived many years, " and 
in them all we have rejoiced;" or be it we have measured the 
same length of days, and therein have evermore sorrowed ; yet, 
looking back from our present being, we find both the one and 
the other — to wit, the joy and the woe — sailed out of sight ; 
and death, which doth pursue us and hold us in chase from our 
infancy, hath gathered it. ^Yhatsoever of our age is past, death 
holds it. 

SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

THE TRUE COMFORTER IN SORROW. 

Are you travailing with sorrow ? Are you heavy laden with 
the burden of oppression or woe ? Christ will give you rest. 
Doubtless the heavy laden with the burden of sin are first invited 



SORROW. 



225 



but they exclude no other sufferers. There is no exception of age, 
or rank, or clime, the extent of the travail, or the weight of the 
burden; the childish sorrows of the weeping schoolboy are as 
much the subject of the Saviour's sympathy as the matured 
wretchedness of the aged man ; all come within the Saviour's 
invitation. 

H. BLUNT. 

CHRIST ALSO SUFFERED. 
Let us be thankful that our Saviour is "the Man of sorrows," 
that by His subjection to sorrow He has become so perfect a 
Redeemer : His manhood so great and grand, and peerless in 
obedience, and patience, and faith ; and so human, and sympa- 
thizing, and tender, through mutual experiences of temptation, 
and sorrow, and death. Thus He is " such an High Priest as 
becomes us," "touched "Vidth the feeling of our infirmities," 
knomng how to " succour them that are tempted, inasmuch as 
He also suffered, being tempted." 

REV. HENRY ALLON. 

JESUS OUR PATTERN. 
In all your difficulties, temptations, sorrows, and trials, — in 
every event of life, you have Jesus for a pattern and a model. 
His are sacred footprints in which to tread. You have His 
laws and His words, and above all, you have His redeeming and 
ever- sustaining love. 

REV. T. R. W. PEARSON, B.A. 

TAKE JESUS FOR YOUR SAVIOUR. 

O YE tempest-tossed mariners, who seem to have more than 
the ordinary share of rocking up and down on life's storms, take 
Jesus for your Saviour, and you shall one day arrive at that 
blessed haven of eternal rest and peace, where you will have no 
more tossings up and do\^Ti every minute of existence ; no more 
fears of sudden, sweeping hurricane blasts; no more sunless, 
tedious days, glancing uncertain on the compass, and rendering 
null both chart and quadrant ; no more nights, moonless and 
misty, that shut the view of horrid icebergs and wrecking rocks 

Q 



226 



GONE BEFORE. 



till too late to avert the towering, crushing destmction ; no more 
sighings after home out on the lone, monotonous main, with all 
■God's waves and winds going over your head, ready to sink into 
he black opening chasm of despair, — rejoice that soon there 
;hall be an end of all your mind-rocking, heart-sinking troubles, 
for in heaven there are no more storms. 

REV. RICHARD JONES, M.A. 

HOW DIVINE A THING IS SORROW ! 

O BELOVED in Jesus Christ, we feel not how divine a thing 
is sorrow, when we forget who it was that once voluntarily chose 
it as His own. A man of moderately pious sensibility would 
surely feel a strange pleasure and a kind of natural dedication to 
holiness, if he could be certified that, by some happy caprice of 
nature, his outward face and form were accurately moulded to 
the image of those of Jesus of Nazareth. The Christian mourners 
wear the dress — the chosen dress, and form and feature — of that 
divine Redeemer's soul. " The poor ye have always with you, 
but Me ye have not always." Nay, Lord, in the poor we have 
Thee — Thee in Thine humble image. The poor man dwells in 
the same moral climate his Saviour inhabited ; breathes the air 
his Saviour breathed. Is there not always something sublime in 
sorrow, thus for ever brightened, glorified, transfigured by Him 
who rejected every other state to wear it? 

ARCHER BUTLER. 

THE SACRED SWEETNESS OF SUFFERING. 
There is a great want about all Christians who have not 
suffered. Some flowers must be broken or bruised before they 
emit any fragrance. All the wounds of Christ sent out sweet- 
ness : the sorrows of Christians do the same. To me there is 
something sacred and sweet in suffering ; it is so much akin to 
the ' * Man of sorrows. ' * 

PURVIS. 

'Tis imptous in a good man to be sad. 

EDWARD YOUNS. 



SORROW. 



SYMPATHY OF JESUS WITH OUR SORROW. 

Jesus is the fountain-head of sorrow — or rather, God is the 
fountain-head, and Jesus the containing ocean, out of whose ful- 
ness it ever overfloweth in streams to moisten and mello^y the heart 
of man ; for as water to the parched earth, so is sorrow to the hard 
heart of man. It may seem strange to say it, but it is most true, 
that the tears which flow from the eyehds of a man are as needful 
to the fraitfulness of his heart as the dews which descend from 
the eyelids of the morning are to the thirsty ground. God's 
sorrow over the world ceased not with the agony of Gethsemane, 
or the heart which broke on Calvary. If love be the door of 
entrance into sorrow — for how can a man grieve if he have no 
tenderness of heart to be wounded, no losses or crosses, nor 
widowed affections over which to weep, — how, oh! how shall 
we be lifted up into love, that we may be able to go doAvn into 
sorrow, and make common cause with our God ? In no other 
way can the region of love be entered, but by escaping out of the 
region of fear, where dwelleth nothing but sadness, trembling, 
and the shadow of death. Thou must believe, O sinner, that 
Jesus hath made thy griefs His, and borne them all. 

EDWARD IRVING. 



THE NIGHT IS ONLY FOR MORTALITY. 

Continual light would have seemed tedious to man, there- 
fore God interchanged it with darkness. He could have made 
it perpetual; He would not, that it might be more grateful. 
There is nothing but God himself whereof man would not be 
weary. The manna was that sweet relish to every palate which 
the palate desired, yet was Israel satiate Avith it. Even the 
things which we most affect cloy us with the continuance. There- 
fore God made such change of creatures to answer the desires of 
man, for whom He made them. God delights in constancy, we 
in change. To walk, or sit, or lie continually, seems a pain not 
tolerable. We are sick with lying, therefore rise ; sick with 
working, therefore rest. So the day dies into night, the morning 
is a resurrection. 



228 



GONE BEFORE. 



Darkness keeps her turn, that hght may be more ^velcome. 
There is no constant and unalterable fixture in this world, all 
hang together by successions. Above it shall be day for ever. 
The night is only for mortality, it is eternal day in heaven. Yet 
let us strive, in some measure of resemblance, to be here as we 
shall be there. Let us dispel the clouds that darken our internal 
light, that our souls may have a continual day. If any fog be 
gathered in our lives, any mist arise in our consciences, let us 
labour, like the moon under an eclipse, to get out, abhorring the 
interposition of lusts between the light of our salvation and our 
souls. Let us walk in the light of this day till we come to the 
day of that light. 

THOMAS ADAMS. 



PAST SORROW. 

AVhex we shall come home and enter into the possession of 
our brother's fair kingdom, and when our heads shall find the 
weight of the eternal crown of glory, and Avhen we shall look 
back to pains and suffering, then shall we see life and sorrow to 
be less than one step or stride from a prison to glory, and that 
our little inch of time-suffering is not worthy of our first night's 
welcome home to heaven. 

SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. 



WE SUFFER NO MORE THAN OUR SINS 
DESERVE. 

He is a God of infinite justice. Our impatience under afiiiction 
generally springs from a secret belief that we do not deserve 
what we sufi"er. 

It is our duty to recollect that, however sovereign are all God's 
acts towards us, in themselves they are all acts of the strictest 
righteousness and equity. *'He is righteous in all His ways, 
and holy in all His works." Shall not the Judge of all the 
earth do right?" was the inquiry of Abraham. " Doth God 
pervert judgment? or doth the Almighty pervert justice ? " was 



SORROW. 



229 



the challenge of Bildad. And numerous statements to the same 
effect will be found in the word of God. " I will ascribe righ- 
teousness to my ^laker." '''Against Thee, Thee only, have I 
sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight : that Thou mightest 
be justified when Thou speakest, and be clear when Thou 
Judgest.'" "Just and true are Thy ways. Thou King of saints." 
"Thou art rigliteous, O Lord God Almighty, because Thou 
hast judged thus." "Clouds and darkness are round about 
Him; justice and judgment are the habitation of His throne." 
Such being the perfect equity of the divine administration, we 
may feel assured that whatever innocence any of us may plead, 
we suffer no more than what our sins and our iniquities deserve. 
"Wherefore doth a li\ing man complain, a man for the punish- 
ment of his sins?" is a most just and reasonable inquiry. At the 
best we are unprofitable servants. 

REV. PETER GRANT. 



THE SEASON OF SORROW MOST FRIENDLY 
TO RELIGION. 

It has always been found that the season of sorrow and 
distress is the most friendly to religion. Those noxious weeds 
which so luxuriantly spring up within us during the sunshine of 
prosperity require the hand of adversity to extirpate them ; and 
the ^^dnds of affliction must blow upon us in order to dissipate 
those pestilential vapours of pride, self-satisfaction, and vanity, 
which threaten to extinguish the sacred fiame of piety in the 
soul. 

REV. PETER GRANT. 



"Before I was afflicted I went astray : but now have I kept 
Thy word." — Psa. cxix. 67. 

" When they returned, and cried unto Thee, Thou heardest 
them from heaven; and many times didst Thou deliver them 
according to Thy mercies." — Neh. ix. 28. 



230 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE HONEY TO BE APPRECIATED MUST BE 
FOUND IN THE ROCK. 

God promises vineyards from the wilderness, and honey from 
the rock, — indicating, under both figures, that those dispensations 
which have in them most of the pamful and severe, the dreari- 
ness of the wilderness and the hardness of the rock, are both de- 
signed and adapted to yield to their subjects an abundance of the 
very choicest of spiritual provision. Yea, you must go to the 
wilderness for vineyards, and to the rock for honey. Not that 
there are no vineyards except in the wilderness, and no stores of 
honey except in the rock. The vine will grow in the Sunnyvale, 
and the bee find and deposit her treasures in the luxuriant garden ; 
for religion is adapted as much to prosperity as to adversity. 
But we take comparatively little note of the vine amid a hundred 
other tokens of fertility, and the honey is almost untasted where 
every luscious fruit is offering itself abundantly. The worth of 
the vineyard is felt when met with in the wilderness, and the 
honey to be appreciated must be found in the rock. 

REV. HENRY MELVILLE. 

THE PURIFYING PROCESS OF SORROW. 

The fiery ordeal, instead of destroying, purifies and refines the 
Christian. His Saviour is with him, and that not only secures 
him from destruction, and that no trial shall come without cor- 
responding grace to bear it, but that it shall work for his good. 
Jesus himself superintends and directs the refining process. " He 
shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and purge them as gold 
' and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in 
righteousness." Just as the workman engaged in purifying silver 
sits and marks intently the refining process, and knows that all 
the dross is burnt out when he sees his own face clearly imaged in 
the bright liquid metal, which is then fit to be made into articles 
for use in the palace or mansion ; so does Christ watch the puri- 
fying process in His people, and when the fiery trial has reduced 
the dross to a minimum, and He sees His own image reflected 
in them in righteousness and true holiness, then the work is com- 
plete, and the subject of it fitted for the inheritance of the saints 
in light. 

REV. B. SWIFT, LL.B. 



SORROW. 



231 



GOD NEVER FORSAKES THOSE ^YHO TRUST 
IN HIM. 

O Lord God, without whose will and pleasure a sparrow doth 
not fall unto the ground ; seeing it is Thy will and permission 
that I should be in this misery and adversity, — not to destroy me 
and cast me away, but to call me to repentance and to save me.; 
for whom Thou lovest, him dost Thou chastise : furthermore, 
seeing affliction and adversity work patience, and who so 
patiently beareth tribulation is made like unto our Sa\dour 
Christ, our Head: finally, seeing that in all tribulation and 
adversity I am in assurance of comfort at Thy gracious hand ; 
for Thou hast commanded me to call upon Thee in the time of 
tribulation, and hast promised to hear and succour me : grant 
me therefore, O Almighty God and merciful Father, in all 
trouble and adversity to be quiet, ^^ithout impatience and mur- 
muring, without discouraging and desperation, to praise and 
magnify Thee, to put my whole trust in Thee ; for Thou never 
forsakest them that trust in Thee, but workest all for the best to 
them that love Thee, and seek the glory of Thy holy name. 
Amen. 

ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. 

HEART SORROW. 

No, no, Thou dost not borrow 

That sadness from the w^nd, 
Nor are those tones of sorrow 

In thee, O harp, enshrined ; 
But in our o\^ti hearts, deeply set. 

Lies the true quivering lyre, 
Whence love, and memory, and regret, 

Wake answers from thy wire. 

MRS. HEMAXS. 

Like a crane or a swallow, so did I chatter : I did mourn 
as a dove : mine eyes fail with looking upward : O Lord, I am 
oppressed ; undertake for me. What shall I say? He hath both 
spoken unto me, and Himself hath done it : I shall go softly all 
my years in the bitterness of my soul. — Isa. xxxviii. 14, 15. 



232 



GONE BEFORE. 



WE MUST TAKE CARE THAT OUR COMPLAINTS 
BE WITHOUT DESPAIR. 

That we may secure our patience, we must take care that our 
complaints be without despair. Despair sins against the reputa- 
tion of God's goodness, and the efficacy of all our old experience. 
By despair we destroy the greatest comfort of our sorrows, and 
turn our sickness into the state of devils and perishing souls. No 
affliction is greater than despair ; for that is it which makes hell- 
fire, and turns a natural evil into an intolerable ; it hinders 
prayers, and fills up the intervals of sickness with a worse torture; 
it makes all spiritual acts useless, and the office of spiritual com- 
forters and guides to be impertinent. Against this, hope is to 
be opposed ; and its proper acts, as it relates to the virtue and 
exercise of patience, are — 1st. Praying to God for help and 
remedy. 2nd. Sending for the guides of souls. 3rd. Using all 
holy exercises and acts of grace proper to that state, which who so 
does hath not the impatience of despair ; every man that is 
patient hath hope in God in the day of his sorrows. 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 

K>« 

THE SACREDNESS OF TEARS. 

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of 
weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than 
ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelm- 
ing grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 



Give sorrow words : the grief that does not speak 
Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break. 

shakspere. 



There are no faces truer than those that are so washed [z. e.^ 
with tears]. 

shakspere. 



SORROW. 



233 



GRAND TRUTHS OF GOD LEARNED IN TROUBLE. 

Most of the grand truths of God have to be learned by 
trouble ; they must be burned into us with the hot iron of afflic- 
tion, other^^dse we shall not truly receive them. No man is 
competent to judge in matters of the kingdom until first he has 
been tried ; since there are many things to be learned in the 
depths which we can never know in the heights, "We discover 
many secrets in the caverns of the ocean, which, though we had 
soared to heaven, we never could have known. 

REV. C. H. SPURGEOX. 



The king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over 
the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he said, O my son 
Absalom, my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for 
thee, O Absalom, my son, my son ! — 2 Sam. xviii. 33 

I AM weary of my crying : my throat is dried : mine eyes fail 
while I wait for my God. — Psa. Ixix. 3 

When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and 
their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I 
the God of Israel will not forsake them. — Isa. xli. 17 

Thou shalt weep no more : He will be very gracious unto 
thee at the voice of thy cry ; w^hen He shall hear it, He will 
answer thee. — Isa. xxx. 19. 

GOD DOTH NOT LEAVE HIS OWN. 

God doth not leave His own ! 
Though few and evil all their days appear ; 

Though grief and fear 
Come in the trains of earth, and hell's dark crowd, — - 
The trusting heart says, even in the cloud, 

God doth not leave His own ! 

God doth not leave His own ! 
Their sorrow in this life He doth permit, — - 

Yea, chooseth it 
To speed His children in their heavenward way ; 
He guides the winds ; — faith, hope, and love, all say, 

God doth not leave His own ! 

From Hytmis selected by J. C. Rylc. 



234 



GONE BEFORE. 



AFFLICTIOX FALLS TO THE SHARE OF THE 

SERVANTS OF GOD. 
God in His mercinil pro\idence causes aSiiction to fall to the 
share of His :r::e sen-ants, in order to promote His will in their 
sar-:::n:a:::n. By tribulation we learn the exercise of hmnilitj, 
self-denial, and resignation. Ev rribulation we learn to be con- 
formed to the fellowship of Christ's surrerlng ; knowing certainly 
that, if we truly repent us of our sir.s. aud bear our afniction 
patiently, trastingin God's mercy, for His dear Son Tesus Christ's 
sake : and render to Him humble thanks for His fatheriy vi;i:a:i 
submitting ourselves wholly unto His will, it shall ram to our 
profit, and help us forward in the right way that leadeth to 
everlasting life.'' 

REV. PA5C0E GRENFELL HILL. 



GOD DOTH XOT VILLIXGLY AFFLICT. 

All God's judgments have for their obiect the assenion of 
His o^vn glor\-, and the eventual promotion of the good of man. 
'•'In the midst of judgment He remembers mercy.''" And 

mercy re; riceth ever judgment,'" like a %-ictor}- to which all 
hearts cry Hosanna ! Eveiy divine judgment, this side of the great 
day. is in order to mercy. It is grace, in the rough guise of cor- 
rection, exhibiting God in His fatherly attribute. With His own 
children, judgment is like Tesus cleansing the temple ; the scourge 
is in his Hands, but it is one of small cords. '"'" He doth not 
^villingly afflict ''the children of men, but for their pront." 
Xo chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, neveitheiess 
afterward it " }"ieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness. As 
the earth peldeth her crops after the rain, what a har\-est home 
for many a so"ul. gathered into the great har\-est of the Lord I 

REV. T. B. OWEN. M.A. 



Beyond all this we may find another reason why God hath 
scattered up and down several degrees of pleasure and pain in 
aU the things that en\-iron and affect us, and blended them 
together in almost all that our thoughts and senses have to do 



SORROW. 



235 



with ; that we, finding imperfection, dissatisfaction, and want 
of complete happiness in all the enjoyments which the creatures 
can afford us, might be led to seek it in the enjoyment of Him 
mth whom there is fulness of joy, and at whose right hand are 
pleasures for evermore. 

JOHN LOCKE. 



We must not reckon upon a smooth road to glory, but it will 
be a short one. 

REV. R. M. M'CHEYXE. 



THE PATH OF SORROW. 

The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 

Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown ; 

No traveller ever reached that blest abode 

Who found not thorns and briars in his road. 

The world may dance along the flowery plain, 

Cheered as they go by many a sprightly strain ; 

Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread, 

With unshod feet they yet securely tread ; 

Admonished, scorn the caution and the friend, 

Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end. 

But He who knew what human hearts would prove, 

How slow to learn the dictates of His love, 

That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, 

A life of ease would make them harder still, 

In pity to the souls His grace designed 

To rescue from the ruins of mankind, 

Called for a cloud to darken all their years. 

And said, Go spend them in the vale of tears ! " 

O balmy gales of soul-reviving air ! 

O salutary streams that murmur there ! 

These flowing from the Fount of Grace above, 

Those breathed from lips of everlasting love. 

The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys, 

Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys, 



236 



GONE BEFORE. 



An envious world will interpose its frown 
To mar delights superior to its own ; 
And many a pang experienced still within, 
Reminds them of their hated innate sin : 
But ills of every shape and every name, 
Transformed to blessings, miss their cruel aim ; 
And every moment's calm that soothes the breast 
Is given in earnest of eternal rest. 

cowrER. 

BE COMFORTED. 

A Disposer whose power we are little able to resist, and 
whose wisdom it behoves us not at all to dispute, has ordained 
it in another manner, and (whatever my querulous weakness 
might suggest) a far better. The storm has gone over me, and 
I lie like one of those old oaks which the late hurricane has 
scattered about me. I am stripped of all my hopes, I am torn 
up by the roots, and lie prostrate on the earth. There, and 
prostrate there, I most unfeignedly recognise the divine justice, 
and in some degree submit to it. In every accident which may 
happen through life, in pain, in sorrow, in depression and 
distress, I will call to mind the principles of general justice and 
benevolence, and be comforted. 

EDMUND BURKE. 



SYMPATHY OF GOD. 

A HEAVENLY awe overshadows and encompasses, as it ought, 
and must, all earthly sorrows. 

THOxMAS CARLYLE. 

SORROW FOR SIN UNTO REPENTANCE. 

Anguish is so alien to man's spirit that nothing is more 
difficult to will than contrition ; therefore God is good enough 
to afflict us, that our hearts, being brought low enough to feed 
on sorrow, may the more easily sorrow for sin unto repentance. 

AUGUSTUS HARE. 



SORROW. 



237 



SORROW 15 ROUGH-HEWX IX HEAVEX. 
Ah : it consoles one for many things unalterable and inexpli- 
cable to stick by that old-fashioned precept of Christian philo- 
sophy, that whatever cross we carry is rough-he\ATi in heaven. 

HOLME LEE. 



THUS HE AVIXS THE HEART. 

God strips off the leaves whose beauty attracted us ; He cuts 
off the flowers whose fragrance fascinated us : He tears off one 
string after another from the lyre whose music charmed us. 
When He has sho^^^l us each object of earth in its nakedness or 
deformity, then He presents Himself to us in the brightness of His 
own glor}', and thus He wins the heart. 

REV. HOILITIUS BOXAR. 



TO MOURX IS THE LOT OF MAX. 

To mourn is the lot of man : nothing does he hold by so sure 
a tenure as his griefs. But must he be the \actim of wants for 
which there is no provision? Is there no solace for his sorrows, 
no balm for his wounds? Yes, we can tell him of that which 
will render him buoyant beneath even,^ burden, happy in every 
privation, tranquil in every calamity, and triumphant in the hour 
of death. Heaven has provided and sent down to earth a 
remedy, which, wherever it is offered and accepted, proves 
mighty and effectual ; and that is t-rue religion. Like the pillar 
of fire, it irradiates the true Israel of God; so that '*to the up- 
right there ariseth light in the darkness." 

REV. STEPHEN BRIDGE, M.A. 

CLEAVIXG TO GOD. 
What a God-honourino- thino-. to see a struo-CTlino:, sorro^■\Tn2: 
child of earth clea^-ing fast to God, calmJy trusting in Him, 
happy and at rest in the midst of storm and suffering ! AMiat a 
spectacle for the host of heaven! Now, then, is the time for the 



238 



GONE BEFORE. 



saints to give glory to the Lord their God. Let them piize 
affliction as the very time and opportunity for doing so most of 
aU. 

REV. HOR.\TIUS BOXAR. 



TEARS ARE THE SIGNS OF SEVERED LOVE. 

When the finger of the destroyer beckons us to look at our 
cherished ones lying stark in his embrace ; when he points us to 
the cold lip and icy eyelid, unresponsive to the pressure of our 
kiss or the language of our glance ; Avhen he shows us coffins, 
and shrouds, and snow- veiled graves, and rings a passing-bell in 
the chambers of our active memories, — it is not wrong to weep. 
Such tears must flow, for they are the signs of severed love, i 
The thing they weep over is the child of sin ; and the tear may be 
the libation of a gentle weakness, but it was a weakness which 
the world's sorrow did not spurn to show. He often wept with 
those that wept, and on the turf of Lazams's new-made grave 
there fell a tear of tenderness which showed that Divinity itself 
knew how to weep 

REV. ARTHUR MURSELL. 



BLESSED ARE THE MIXISTRATIOXS OF SORROW. 

Blessed are the ministrations of sorrow ! Through it we are 
brought into more tender relationship to all other forms of being, 
obtain a deeper insight into the mysteiy of eternal life, and feel 
more distinctly the breathings of the Infinite. 

MRS. L. M. CHILD. 



HEAVEN STILL SPEAKS TO US. 
Seldom desponding men look up to heaven. 
Although it still speak to them in its glories ; 
For when sad thoughts perplex the mind of man. 
There is a plummet in the heart that weighs, 
And pulls us living to the dust we came from. 

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 



SORROW. 



239 



WRETCHED VOTARIES OF THE WORLD AND 
OF SORROW. 

But oh ! even sorrow itself is ^Yeak where God does not infuse 
His lessons in its sting. To no subordinate means will He 
depute His omnipotence. And oftentimes, just as the sinking 
seaman seizes in his agony the nearest support, so in our agony 
too we grasp at the hope next us, — some vain thought as idle as 
the one that \^Tecked us, some new dependence that fails us 
as the old did. And thus it is that we see so many wretched 
votaries of the world and of sorrow, who know happiness neither 
in enjoyment nor promise, to whom earth is no heaven, and yet 
heaven no hope, — exiles of both worlds, and without claim in 
either ! 

ARCHER BUTLER. 



SORROW GOD'S HEALING MESSENGER. 
The sorrow that brings the heart into relations with God is His 
healing messenger, drawing closer our communion with the 
Source of our being, and leading to that repentance which is 
only another name for a new and divine life ; whilst the sorrow 
that does not bring the heart into healing and strengthening re- 
lations with God, but settles on the worldly aspects of our grief, 
calls no angel emotion to unbar our prison doors, but leaves us 
to ourselves in that hour of woe and weakness, alone with our 
humiliation, our darkness, our anguish, and our sin. The 
sorrows which the same affliction awakens may be so absolutely 
different in kind as to have nothing moral in common. It may 
be the godly sorrow that restores spiritual life : it may be the 
sorrow whose eye is on the world, that sinks in moral death. 

J. H. THOM. 



TO GRIEVE AND YET HAVE NO COMFORTER. 

Though standing afar off from the saints, and unable to 
mingle its sympathies with theirs, still the world has sorrows of 



240 



GONE BEFORE. 



its own — deep and many. To grieve and yet have no comforter, 
to be wounded and yet have no healer, to be weary and yet have 
no resting-place, — this is the world's hard lot. Yet it is a self- 
chosen one. 

REV. HORATIUS BONAR. 



GOD IS MORE CONCERNED TO MAKE MAN HOLY 
THAN HAPPY. 

Whoever well considers the state of the world, and human 
experience, cannot but conclude that God is more concerned to 
make man holy than happy ; for many are able to rest in their 
sorrows, for the sake of their use and end, but no one finds rest 
in unholy delights. In sinful pleasure God follows man with a 
scourge ; in sorrow, with balm. 

REV. JOHN PULSFORD. 



SORROW IS A SACRED THING. 
With a soul that ever felt the sting 
Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing ; 
Not to molest, or irritate, or raise 
A laugh at his expense, is slender praise ; 
He that has not usurped the name of man 
Does all, and deems too little all he can, 
To assuage the throbbings of the festered part, 
•And stanch the bleedings of a broken heart. 
'Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose, 
Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes ; 
Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight, 
Each yielding harmony, disposed aright ; 
The screws reversed (a task which, if He please, 
God in a moment executes with ease). 
Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose. 
Lost, till He tune them, all their power and use. 
Then neither healthy wilds, nor scenes as fair 
As ever recompensed the peasant's care, 
Nor soft declivities with tufted hills, 



SORROW. 



241 



Nor view of waters turning busy mills, 

Parks in which art preceptress nature weds, 

Nor gardens interspersed with flowery beds, 

Nor gales that catch the scent of blooming groves, 

And waft it to the mourner as he roves, 

Can call up life into his faded eye, 

That passes all he sees unheeded by ; 

No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, 

No cure for such, till God who makes them heals. 

COWPER. 



SWEET SORROW FOR THE LOST. 

If the hidden Infinite One, who is encompassed by gleaming 
abysses without bounds, and who Himself creates the bounds, 
were now to lay immensity open to thy view, and to reveal 
Himself to thee in the distribution of the suns, the lofty spirits, 
the little human hearts, and our days, and some tears therein — 
would'st thou rise up out of thy dust against Him, and say. 

Almighty! be other than Thou art?" But be one sorrow 
alone forgiven thee, or made good to thee, the sorrow for thy 
dead ones ; for this sweet sorrow for the lost is itself but another 
form of consolation. When the heart is full of longing for them, 
it is but another mode of continuing to love them ; and we shed 
tears as well when we think of their departure, as when we pic- 
ture to ourselves our joyful reunion — and the tears, methinks, 
differ not. 

JEAN PAUL RICHTER. 



GRIEF IS ITSELF A MEDICINE. 

Grief is itself a medicine, and bestowed 
To improve the fortitude that bears the load ; 
To teach the wanderer, as his woes increase, 
The path of wisdom, all whose paths are peace ! 

COWPER. 

R 



242 



GONE BEFORE. 



SWEET ARE THE USES OF ADVERSITY. 

No man is more miserable than he that hath no adversit}^ ; 
that man is not tried whether he be good or bad ; and God never 
crowns those virtues which are only faculties and dispositions. 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 



If sorrow come not near us, and the love 
Which wisdom- working sorrow best imparts, 
Found never time of entrance to our hearts, 
If we had won already a safe shore, 
Or if our changes were already o'er, 
Our pilgrim being we might quite forget. 
Our hearts but faintly on those mansions set, 
W^here there shall be no sorrow any more. 
Therefore we will not be unwise to ask 
This, nor secure exemption from our share 
Of mortal suffering, and life's drearier task — 
Not this, — but grace our portion so to bear. 
That we may rest, when grief and pain are over, 
With the meek Son of our Almighty Lover. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



The hues of bliss more brightly glow, 
Chastised by sabler tints of woe. 

THOMAS GRAY. 



SORROW GOOD FOR THE SOUL. 

God uses the severest means with his choicest and most valued 
plants, — prunes those that bring forth fruit that they may bring 
forth still more fruit. Where would be His love to us, if He left 
us unpruned and fruitless, to be broken off at last as useless 
branches, and cast into the fire ? 

God sees the end from the beginning ; His infinite mind traces 
relations and consequences of which we can form no just con- i 
ception. With Him there is no such thing as chance, doubt, j 



SORROW. 



243 



and conjecture. Disposed before Him in the most luminous 
order, the whole series of events that ever will occur occupy the 
veiy places and crises when they can most effectually promote 
His glory and our eternal welfare. 

REV. LUKE FOSTER.- 



SUFFERING EXALTS AND PURIFIES 

It is good for us at times to be sad, to be serious, to meditate 
profoundly, to send out thoughts earnestly fonvard to another 
world, to hush the sound of mirth, and shade the splendours of 
life, and hold meek and reverential communion with Him who 
presideth over all. Those wish not \^isely who desire life to be 
like one strain ot music, or the sparkle of a summer's wave. 
Suffering often calls forth our best feelings, and the highest 
energies of the mind. It exalts and purifies. It awakens a true 
spirit, and naturally leads us nearer to heaven. As the shadow 
of Peter is said to have given life to those upon whom it rested, 
so often will sorrow give higher life to the soul. 

R. C. WATERSON. 



TRUE RELIGION THE SOLACE OF WOE. 

It is a peculiar incident that perhaps occurs to us at all times, 
but which I have never found expressed in books, viz., to hear 
a doubt of futurity at the very moment in which the present is 
most overcast ; and to find at once this world stripped of its 
delusion, and the next of its consolation. It is perhaps for 
others, rather than ourselves, that the fond heart requires an 
Hereafter. The tranquil rest, the shadow, and the silence, the 
mere pause of the wheel of life, have no terror for the wise, v/bo 
know the due value of the world. 

After the billows of a stormy" sea. 
Sweet is at last the haven of repose I " 

But not so when that stillness is to divide us eternally from 
others ; when those we have loved with all the passion, the 
devotion, the watchful sanctity of the weak human heart, are to 
exist to us no more — when, after long years of desertion and 



244 



GONE BEFORE. 



widowhood on earth, there is to be no hope of reunion in that 
Invisible beyond the stars ; when the torch, not of life only, 
but of love, is to be quenched in the dark fountain ; and the 
grave, that we would fain hope is the great restorer of broken 
ties, is but the dumb seal of hopeless, utter, inexorable separa- 
tion ! And it is this thought, this sentiment, which makes 
religion out of woe, and teaches belief to the mourning heart, 
that in the gladness of united affections felt not the necessity of 
a heaven ! To how many is the death of the beloved the 
parent of faith ! 

LORD LYTTON. 



SORROW BRIXGETH AN ABIDING BLESSING. 

We are hardly surprised that when the divine !\Iaster said 
to His disciples " It is expedient for you that I go away,^ they, 
fallmg back and forming little groups of perplexed, earnest 
talkers, should say, "What is this that He saith?" Like 
mariners at sea, whose ship is fast sailing into the darkness 
and storm, amid the foam- crested waves and gaping troughs, 
and when mostly a firm hand is required to guide, the pilot is 
swept away. Such are we. ^Master, it is most inexpedient 
for us that Thou go away. Those disciples did not see how an 
abiding benefit could come to them and a universal and ever- 
lasting blessing rise out of that temporary and local sorrow. 
They knew not the full meaning of Christ's words, nor saw the 
whole circle of His works. Hence there was a wrong judgment, 
and sorrow filled their hearts. Like them, frequently we have 
thought that the words and works of Christ were in conflict. 
We have glance at the promise and then gazed at the trial. We 
have listened, " All things work together for good," &c. We 
have still listened, " There shall no evil befall thee," &c. And 
then we have turned and looked upon the spoiling of our goods, 
the diminishing of our possessions, the waning of our friendships, 
the wearing down of our spirits, the wasting of our flesh. We 
liave looked through blinding tears into the empty cot where had 
lain our little child. We have listened vainly for wonted sounds, 
the sister's voice or brother's footfall. We have longed, but vainl}' 



SORROW. 



245 



so, to have again the mother's warm affection or the father's \^-ise 
ad\^ce. And as we have turned from these scenes of sorrow 
to those words of love, we have asked, ''What is this that He 
saith ? " Xow we tell how in the dav of trial we have clung to 
those truths ; we knew not the way in which God would fulfil 
His own promise. We walked by faith in the words of our 
Lord Jesus, and we have found, as did those eleven disciples, 
that His promise and His providence, His words and His works, 
are in harmony ; that a sore bereavement may be a sure 
blessing, a seeming loss prove a substantial gain ; that out of 
the fierce fires of consuming sorrow may rise a great and ever- 
living joy. " Your sorrow shall be turned into joy." 

REV THOMAS SCOWBY. 

BE PATIENT. 

Our complaints in trouble must be without murmur. Mur- 
mur sins against God's providence and government, by it we 
grow rude, and like the falling angels, displeased at God's 
supremacy ; and nothing is more unreasonable — it talks against 
God, for whom all speech was made ; it is proud and fantastic, 
hath better opinions of a sinner than of the divine justice, and 
would rather accuse God than himself. Against this is opposed 
that part of patience which resigns the man into the hands of 
God, sa}dng with old Eli, " It is the Lord; let Him do what he 
^^-ill;'' and, " Thy will be done in earth, as it is heaven; and so 
by admiring God's justice and wisdom, does also dispose the sick 
person for receiving God's mercy, and secures him the rather in 
the grace of God. The proper acts of this part of patience are — 
I St. To confess our sins and our own demerits. 2nd. It increases 
and exercises humility. 3rd. It loves to sing praises to God, 
even from the lowest abyss of human misery. 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 

The sorrows which the soul endures, 

Not self-inflicted, are but hooded joys, 

That when she touches the white strand of heaven, 

They cluster round her and slip off their robes. 

And smile out angels in the world of light. 

J. ST ANY AN BIGG. 



246 



GONE BEFORE. 



GOD'S WISDOM AND MERCY. 

Clouds and darkness are round the throne of God ; His ways 
are often past finding out, yet of this we may be assured, that 
whether He withholds or gives, whether He refuses or bestows, 
His determinations are founded in wisdom and righteousness and 
mercy. 

REV. J. KENDRICK. 



SORROW IS EXCEPTIONAL. 

It is easy to dehght in God's doings when His providential 
ways are pleasant to us, when His providential gifts are affluent. 
And this is really the chief experience of most lives. Privation 
and sorrow are much more exceptional than we commonly think. 
A great sorrow fills a large space in our thoughts, but only a 
small space in our lives. We think more of the one black cloud 
than of the blue sky across which it is driven. But even when 
God gives the most richly, we do not always rejoice in Him. 
Still harder is it to delight in God when His providential ways 
are dark and painful, when He afflicts us with privation, and 
sorrow, and pain. And yet a true and high piety requires this 
of us. When we have clearly ascertained that the thing is of 
God, that it is not a self-caused sorrow, the penalty of our own 
folly and sin, that it is the appointment of infinite wisdom and 
love, we ought to do more than just acquiesce in it. We cannot, 
of course, delight in pain, but we may delight in God who inflicts 
pain, delight in Him although He inflicts pain ; have such strong 
assurance of His wise love, that we cling to Him in the steadfast 
love of our troubled hearts. He appoints all these conditions 
and experiences of my life. He does me this honour, to care for 
me and perfect me ; I will therefore bless Him who gives as 
well as Him who takes away. When a man attains to this feel- 
ing, he has attained to strength and comfort. It is a strong, 
noble attitude and temper of soul, in patient piety to receive evil 
as well as good from the hand of the Lord ; in lowly acquiescence 
to say, even in our agony, *'Notmy will, but Thine, be done." 

REV. HENRY ALLON. 



SORROW. 



247 



ABSORBING SORROW. 

And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun, 

And she forgot the blue above the trees, 
And she forgot the dells, where waters run, 

And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze ; 
She had no knowledge when the day was done, 

And the new moon she saw not : but in peace 
Hung over her sweet Basil evermore, 

And moistened it with tears unto the core. 



Wakeful he sits, and lonely and unmoved, 
Beyond the arrows, views, or shouts of men 
As oftentimes an eagle, when the sun 
Thro\vs o'er the varying earth his early ray, 
Stands solitary, stands immoveable 
Upon some highest cliff, and rolls his eye, 
Clear, constant, unobservant, unabased, 
In the cold light. 

W. S. LANDOR. 



In some there lies a sorrow too profound 

To find a voice or to reveal itself 

Throughout the strain of daily toil or thought. 

Or during converse bom of souls allied. 

As aught men understand. And though mayhap 

The cheeks will thin or droop, and wane their eye's 

Frank lustre ; hair may lose its hue, or fall ; 

And health may slacken low in force, and they 

Are older than the warrant of their years ; 

Yet they to others' seeing gild their lives 

With cheerfulness, and every duty tend, 

As if their aspects told the truth within. 

THOMAS WOOLNER. 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE LOT OF THOUSANDS. 

When hope lies dead within the heart, 

By secret sorrow long concealed, 
We shrink lest looks or words impart 
What may not be revealed. 

'Tis hard to smile when one would weep. 

To speak when one would silent be. 
To wake when one would wish to sleep, 
And wake to agony. 

Yet such the lot for thousands cast. 

Who wander in this world of care, 
And bend beneath the bitter blast. 
To save them from despair. 

Yet Nature waits her guests to greet, 

Where disappointment cannot come ; 
And time leads with unerring feet 
The weary wanderer home. 

MRS. ANNE HUNTER. 



WISDOM BORN OF SORROW. 

It is not in the summer-tide of life 

That the heart hoards its treasures ; it is when 

The storm is loud, and the mde hurricane 

Of sorrow is abroad ; when solemn strife, 

Such as may move the souls of constant men. 

Is straggling in our bosoms, — it is then 

The heart collects her stores with wisdom rife. 

DR. PARKER. 



Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life, 
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, 
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray. 

LORD BYRON. 



SORROW. 



249 



FEELINGS EXGEXDERED BY SORRO^Y SOOX 
FADE. 

Wko that a watcher doth remain 
Beside a couch of mortal pain 
Deems he can ever smile again ? 

Oh ! who that weeps beside a bier 

Counts he has any more to fear 

From the world's flatteries, false and leer ? 

And yet anon and he doth start 
At the light toys in which his heart 
Can now already claim its part. 

O heart of ours ! so weak and poor, 
That nothing there can long endure ; 
And so their hurts finds shameful cure, — 

^Vhile every sadder, ^^dser thought, 
Each holier aim which sorrow brought, 
Fades quite away, and comes to nought. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



SORROW NOURISHES TILL STRENGTH RETURNS. 

Weak minds make treaties vdth the passions they cannot 
overcome, and try to purchase happiness at the expense of prin- 
ciple. But the resolute Avill of a strong man scorns such means, 
and struggles nobly with his foe to achieve great deeds. There- 
fore, whosoever thou art that sufferest, try not to dissipate thy 
soiTOw by the breath of the world, nor drovm its voice in 
thoughtless merriment. It is a treacherous peace that is pur- 
chased by indulgence. Rather take this sorrow to thy heart 
and make it a part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art 
strong again. 

LONGFELLOW. 

Calamity alone's the perfect glass 
Wherein we truly see and know ourselves. 

SIR \VM, DAVENANT. 



250 



GONE BEFORE. 



OUR FIRST GREAT SORROW. 
There is no despair so absolute as that which comes ^\ath 
the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not 
yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have 
despaired, and to have recovered hope. 

GEORGE ELIOT. 



OUR GREATEST GLORY IS NOT IN NEVER FALL- 
ING, BUT IN RISING EVERY TIME WE FALL. 
We should feel sorrow, but not sink under its oppression ; the 
heart of a wise man should resemble a mirror, which reflects 
every object without being sullied by any. The wheel of fortune 
turns incessantly round, and who can say within himself, I shall 
to-day be uppermost? We should hold the immutable mean 
that lies between insensibility and anguish ; our attempts should 
be, not to extinguish nature, but to repress it ; not to stand un- 
moved at distress, but endeavour to turn every disaster to our 
own advantage. Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but 
in rising every time we fall. 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



THE STORMS OF WINTRY TIME WILL QUICKLY 
PASS. 

Ye good distressed ! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up awhile, 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deemed evil, is no more 
The storms of wintry time will quickly pass. 
And one unbounded spring encircle all. 

THOMSON. 



TIME A DEEP REMEDIAL FORCE. 
The compensations of calamity are made apparent to the 
understanding after long intervals of time. A fever, a mutila- 



SORROW. 



251 



tion, a cruel disappointment, a loss of wealth, a loss of friends, 
seems, at the moment, unpaid loss, and unpayable. But 
the sure years reveal the deep remedial force that underlies all 
facts. 

RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 

THE CUP OF SORROW IS IN CONSTANT 
CIRCULATION. 
The cup of sorrow is in constant circulation. We must all 
drink, and some of us drink deeply. It is not material whose 
turn comes first ; the thing is to benefit by the draught : for it 
requires very little self-knowledge to convince us that we are 
unequal to prosperity, and unable to sustain it without growing 
careless, or attaching ourselves too strongly to the things which 
perish, to the exclusion of things eternal. 

REV. ROBERT GRANT. 

BEAR THY CROSS IN PATIENCE. 

" Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall find 

Comfort and joy ! " Though flesh and blood rebel 

'Gainst heavenward thoughts, and the vexed spirit swell 

With anxious tossings, still, the veil behind 

Of earth-born mists, the faith- directed mind 

Sees throned in cloudless light the Invisible, 

At whose right hand delights in fulness dwell, 

And bliss for everlasting. Be resigned. 

Thou child of sorrow, to His sovereign will ; 

Drink, as He bids, the bitter cup, and bear 

Thy cross in patience ! From the holy hill 

A gleam shall cheer thee, till, safe harboured there. 

Thou feel how faintly earth's severest ill 

]\Iay with the weight of heavenly joys compare ! 

BISHOP MANT. 

A GLORIOUS RECOMPENSE. 
One hour of eternity, one moment with the Lord, will make 
us utterly forget a lifetime's desolations 

REV. HORATIUS BONAR. 



252 



GONE BEFORE. 



CLOUDS IN THE EVENING SKY. 
Into the Silent Land ! 
Ah I who shall lead us thither ? 
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, 
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand ; 
Who leads us with a gentle hand 
Thither, oh, thither — 
Into the Silent Land ? 
Into the silent land ! 
To you, ye boundless regions 
Of all perfection I Tender morning visions 
Of beauteous souls ! The future's pledge and band ! 
Who in life's battle firm doth stand 
Shall bear hope's tender blossoms 
Into the silent land ! 
O land ! O land ! 
For all the broken-hearted, 
The mildest herald by our fate allotted 
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand, 
To lead us with a gentle hand 
Into the land of the great departed — 
Into the Silent Land ! 

SALTS. 

UNINTERRUPTED SUNSHINE WOULD PARCH 
OUR HEARTS. 

We often live under a cloud ; and it is well for us that it 
should be so. Uninterrupted sunshine would parch our hearts ; 
we want shade and rain to cool and refresh them. Only it 
behoves us to take care that, whatever cloud may be spread over 
us, it should be a cloud of witnesses. And every cloud may be 
such, if we can only look through it to the sunshine that broods 
behind it. 

SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 

IS NOT GOD THY FATHER? 
Is it not God thy Father ? Go and boldly lay open thy 
case unto Him ; His bowels will certainly yearn toward thee. 



SORROW. 



253 



Is it spiritual blessings thou wantest? Spread thy requests 
before Him ; for He is thy Father, so He is the God of all grace, 
and will give unto thee out of His fulness ; for God loves that 
His children should be like Him. Or is it temporal mercies thou 
wantest? Why, He is thy Father, and He is the " Father of 
mercies, and the God of all comfort." And why shouldst thou 
go so dejected and disconsolate, who hast a Father so able and so 
willing to relieve and to supply thee ? Only beware that thou 
askestnot "stones" for "bread," nor "scorpions" for "fish," and 
thou ask what thou wilt for thy good, and thou shalt receive it 

BISHOP HOPKINS. 



GOD REGARDETH OUR MOANINGS. 

Every good and holy desire, though it lack the form, hath 
notwithstanding in itself the substance and the force of a prayer 
with God, who regardeth the ver\^ moanings, groans, and sighings 
of the heart of man. The prayers of the just are accepted always, 
but not always those things granted for which they pray. 

BISHOP HOOKER. 



SUFFERING IS A TITLE TO AX EXCELLENT 
IXHERITAXCE. 

The very suffering is a title to an excellent inheritance ; for 
God chastens every son whom He receives ; and if we be not 
chastised, we are bastards, and not sons. And be confident, 
that although God often sends pardon without correction, yet He 
never sends correction without pardon, unless it be thy fault : 
and therefore take every or any affliction as an earnest penny of 
thy pardon ; and, upon condition there may be peace ^^dth God, 
let anything be welcome that He can send as its instrument or 
condition. Suffer, therefore, God to choose His ovm. circum- 
stances of adopting thee, and be content to be under discipline, 
when the reward of that is to become the son of God : and by 
such inflictions He hews and breaks thy body, first dressing it to 
funeral, and then preparing it for immortahty. And if this be 



254 



GONE BEFORE. 



the effect or the design of God's love to thee, let it be occasion of 
thy love to Him ; and remember that the truth of love is hardly 
known but by somewhat that puts us to pain. 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 



SORROW BRAVELY BORXE. 

Sorrow leaves slighter tears when bravely borne, 
And Time has been most gentle in his dealing 
With me. He has not harshly snatched and torn 
!My ]\Iay-day bloom ; or if he has been stealing 
A rose or two, he has not left the thorn 
Severely prominent in its revealing. 
But flung some leaves of genial summer flush, 
To take the place of Hebe's vermeil blush. 

ELIZA COOK. 



A FACE wherein there lies 
Clusters of clouds, which no calm ever clears. 

POOLE. 

ONWARD, OXWARD INTO LIGHT. 

Our course is onward, onward into light ; 
What though the darkness gatliereth amain, 
Yet to return or tarry, both are vain. 
How tarry, when around us is thiuk night ? 
Whither return ? what flower yet ever might, 
In days of cold and gloom and stormy rain, 
Enclose itself in its green bud again, 
Hiding from \^Tath of tempest out of sight ? 
Courage I we travel through a darksome cave ; 
But still as nearer to the light we draw. 
Fresh gales will reach us from the upper air. 
And wholesome dews of heaven our foreheads lave. 
The darkness lighten more, till full of awe 
We stand in the open sunshine unaware. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



SORROW. 



255 



SORROW THE SEMINARY OF COMFORT. 
God, who in mercy and wisdom governs the world, would 
never have suffered so many sadnesses, and have sent them 
especially to the most virtuous and the wisest men, but that He 
intends they should be the seminary of comfort, the nursery of 
virtue, the exercise of wisdom, the trial of patience, the ventur- 
ing for a cro\\m, and the gate of glory. 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 

I WILL gather them that are sorrowful : and I will strengthen 
them in the Lord (Zeph, iii. i8). And they shall walk up and 
down in His name saith the Lord. — Zech. x. 12. 



I JOY IN GOD, THOUGH I SUFFER PRIVATION. 
Suppose that sorrow, or rather outward causes for sorrow, 
befall us. Can any support or soothing for it be imagined more 
potent than religious joy ? I joy in God, though I suffer priva- 
tion and pain. In the world I have tribulation ; in Him I have 
peace. Joy in God is the light that springs up in this darkness. 
Joy in God is the anchor that holds fast the soul in this storm. 
Joy in God gives patience and victory in this conflict. 

REV. HENRY ALLOX. 

Say, what is prayer when it is prayer indeed ? 
The mighty utterance of a mighty need. 
The man is praying who doth press with might 
Out of his darkness into God's own light. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 

TIME OF TRIAL A TIME WHEN GOD ESPECIALLY 
SPEAKS TO US. 
The efficacy of sorrow for the great work of self-abasement 
is mighty. Affliction is the very voice of God speaking to man 
in his nothingness. Sorrow is more eloquent than the preacher's 
discourse. It is not the gospel, but it is the herald of the 
gospel ; it is the very voice of Him that crieth in the vast 



256 



GONE BEFORE. 



wilderness of the desolated heart, Prepare ye the way of the 
Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God." 
Surrounded by all earthly comforts, we may not comprehend 
the message, "Comfort ye." It may seem a superfluous con- 
solation. We send it to the widow, the orphan, the captive. 
But when around us lie shattered the hopes and dreams of that 
fleeting prosperity, when we walk am^ong ruins, ourselves a 
ruin, then God's time is near. His hand is busy on that chaos, 
**the broken heart," which He has promised not to spurn, and 
His Spirit (which works by means and times and seasons) is 
even now about to weave of the dark substance of that grief 
*'the garment of praise" of which His prophet has spoken, — 
the adorning meet for the everlasting kingdom ! Blessed indeed 
are the mourners to whom their mourning has brought humilia- 
tion. The raptures of eternity will declare whether that is ' ^ a 
repentance to be repented of." 

ARCHER BUTLER. 



Lord, all my desire is before Thee ; and my groaning is not 
hid from Thee. My heart panteth, my strength faileth me : as 
for the light of mine eyes, it also is gone from me. — Psa. xxxviii. 
9, lo. 

I HAVE satisfied the weary soul, and I have replenished every 
sorrowful soul. — ^Jer. xxxi. 25. 

Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou 
disquieted within me ? hope in God : for I shall yet praise 
Him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God. — 
Psa. xliii. 5. 

The Lord shall give thee rest from thy sorrow. — Isa. xiv. 3. 

Though He cause grief, yet will He have compassion accord- 
ing to the multitude of His mercies. For He doth not afiiict 
willingly nor grieve the children of men. — Lam. iii. 32, 33. 



SYMPATHY. 



CHRIST ALWAYS AT HAND TO HELP US. 

There is no situation in which Christ is not willing and able 
to help us. ^Yhen did He come to Peter and to his fellow- 
voyagers? (Matt. xiv. 24, &c.). It was ''about the fourth 
watch of the night," while morning had scarce begun to 
daA^Ti, and all nature was sunk in slumber. And who, after 
the toils of the preceding day, would have felt these slumbers 
more sweet, or nature's rest more refreshing, than the weary 
Man of sorrows ? But He, who had gone to the lonely mountain- 
top to seek a couch of rest, when elsewhere He had none, 
willingly forsook even this, to come to the help of His beloved 
disciples ! \Yhat does this tell us, but that we can never go out 
of season to Christ ; that there is not the hour in which He is 
inaccessible to our wants, or will refuse to give us help ; that 
there is not the danger from which He cannot extricate us ; nor 
the trial which He will not ovemile for the strengthening of our 
faith ? He is able to save. He is willing to save. None are 
beyond the reach of His abounding grace and mercy. As 
the ocean supports a navy as easily as the bubble on the breaker, 
or the sea-bird sitting on its crested foam ; as the earth supports 
the everlasting hills as easily as the tiny grass which clothes its 
sides, or the cattle which browse on them : so Jesus can save 
great and small ; He is the spiritual Atlas caiTying a ruined 
world. In the season of our deepest extremity, even when we 
may seem on the brink of perishing — the waves of destruction 
about to close over us, — with such a Saviour there is no room to 
despair. 

E.EV. J. E.. MACDUFF, D.D. 

s 

s 



258 



GONE BEFORE. 



Beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me ! — Matt, 
xiv. 30. 

The Lord was ready to save me. — Isa. xxxviii. 20. 
If we believe not, yet He abideth faithful: He cannot 
deny Himself.— 2 Tim. ii. 13. 



HUMAN SYMPATHY. 

Give me some token of your love, 

One heavenly thought, in heavenly silence born. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



Hide not thy tears ; weep boldly, and be proud 
To give the flowing virtue manly way : 
'Tis nature's mark to know an honest heart by. 
Shame on those breasts of stone that cannot melt 
In soft adoption of another's sorrow ! 

AARON HILL, 



We sat together and alone, 
And to the want, that hollowed all the heart, 
Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye, 
That bum'd upon its object through such tears 
As flow but once a life. 

TENNYSON. 



I CAME to tell her how she might be happy ; 
To soothe the secret anguish of her soul, 
To comfort that fair mourner, that forlorn one, 
And teach her steps to know the paths of peace. 

ROWE. 



There is a tear for all who die 

A mourner o'er the humblest grave. 

LORD BYRON. 



SYMPATHY. 259 

Oh ! sweet is sympathy to hearts that grieve, 
And pitying tear-drops many a pain relieve. 

From the Basque. 



Thy words have darted hope into my soul, 
And comfort dawns upon me. 

THOMAS SOUTHERNE. 



In such a world, so thorny, and where none 
Finds happiness unblighted, or, if found, 
Without some thistly sorrow at its side, 
It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin 
Against the law of love, to measure lots 
With less distinguished than ourselves ; that thus 
We may with patience bear our moderate ills, 
And sympathize with others suffering more. 

COWPER. 



GOD WATCHES WHEN HOPE GROWS DIM. 
In weariness. 
In disappointment or distress. 
When strength decays, or hope grows dim, 
We ever may recur to Him, 

Who has the golden oil divine. 
Wherewith to feed our failing urns, 
Who watches every lamp that bums 
Before His sacred shrine. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH, 



Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain 
thee. — Psa. Iv. 22. 

The Lord hath comforted His people, and will have mercy 
upon His afflicted. — Isa. xlix. 13. 



260 



GONE BEFORE. 



CHRIST BEARETH OUR CURSE AWAY. 

Saviour of this poor suffering world, when all in darkness lay, 
Oh ! who but Thou could'st meet the doom, and bear the curse 
away? 

And who but Thou, Thou Lamb of God, the I^Ian of sorrows 
here, 

Could solve the mystery of woe, and make its meaning clear ? 

Without Thee what a dreaiy waste this groanmg earth would 
be! 

For ever sending up the cry of helpless misery. 

But Thou art the Deliverer, and blessings out of woe, 
From the full treasures of Thy love, in liberal bounty flow. 

In Thee believing, we may pass without a failing heart 
Through every grief and agony, and feel that there Thou art. 

In Thee believing, we can rest, upon the strength of love. 
And from the cross of pain below, see the bright cro^^Ti above. 

MRS. HAWTREY. 

THE LIFE BEYOND. 

The departed are thinking, feeling, acting still. Their bodies 
are in the dust, but their bodies are there, not them — their instru- 
ments, not themselves. The breaking up of the harp destroys 
neither the life nor the music of the lyrist. The science and 
love of sweet sounds may still inspire his breast, he may grasp 
some other instmment, and send forth strains more rich, more 
deep, more entrancing than ever. The spirits, tuned into 
music here, h)Tnn their lofty anthems. 

REV. DAVID THOMAS, D.D. 

JESUS MUST SHARE IN EVERY HUMAN 
AFFECTION. 
The dearest, choicest ties of human affection are but as brittle 
glass. They are easily broken and soon destroyed. No union 
but that which is with Jesus, and in Jesus, extends beyond the 



SYMPATHY. 



261 



grave. He must share in every tie of creature love, if it be holy 
and permanent. Think not that the union of holy hearts is 
dissolved by death. Oh no ! Death does not sever, death 
unites the sanctified. The bonds of the holy are beyond his 
ruthless power to break. The love which the image of Jesus, 
reflected in His people, inspires, is as deathless as the love of 
Jesus Himself. It is as immortal as their own redeemed, trans- 
formed, and glorified nature. And in reference to a more divine 
and elevated sentiment than that to which the poet refers, we 
apply his beautiful words : — 

" They sin who tell us love can die : 
With love all other passions fly — 
All others are but vanity ; 
But love is indestructible, 
Its holy flame for ever burneth ; 
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth." 

REV. OCTAVIUS WINSLOW, D.D. 



O LORD, ABIDE WITH ME. 

Abide with me, fast falls the eventide : 
The darkness thickens — Lord, with me abide. 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 

S\\4ft to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; 
Change and decay in all around I see : 
O Thou who changest not, abide with me. 

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word, 
But as Thou dvvell'st vidth Thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free — 
Come not to sojourn, but abide with me. 

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings. 
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings ; 
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea ; 
Come, Friend of shiners, thus abide with me. 



GONE BEFORE. 



I need Thy presence every passing hour 
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me. 

I have no foe, with Thee at hand to bless — 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness ; 
Where is Death's sting ? where, Grave, thy victory ? 
I triumph still if Thou abide with me. 

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows 
flee : 

In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me. 

REV. H. F. LYTE. 

BE NOT WEARY, ONWARD PRESS. 
Yes ! He knows the way is dreary. 

Knows the weakness of our frame, 
Knows that hand and heart are weary : 
He in all points felt the same. 
He is near to help and bless ; 
Be not weary, onward press. 
* * * 

Look to Him who ever liveth, 

Interceding for His owti ; 
Seek, yea, claim the grace He giveth 
Freely from His priestly throne. 
Will He not thy strength renew 
With His Spirit's quickening dew ? 

Look to Him, and faith shall brighten, 

Hope shall soar, and love shall bum ; 
Peace once more thy heart shall lighten : 
Rise ! He calleth thee, return ! 
Be not weary on thy way ; 
Jesus is thy strength and stay. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



SYMPATHY. 



263 



THERE IS A LOVE THAT NEVER FAILS. 

There is an eye that never sleeps 

Beneath the wing of night ; 
There is an ear that never shuts 

When sink the beams of hght. 

There is an arm that never tires 
When human strength gives way ; 

There is a love that never fails 
When earthly loves decay. 

That eye is fixed on seraph throngs ; 

That ear is filled with angels' songs ; 
That arm upholds the worlds on high ; 

That love is throned beyond the sky. 

BISHOP HEBER. 



O Lord, I am oppressed, undertake for me. — Isa. xxxviii. 14. 

The Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their 
troubles. — Psa. xxxiv. 17. 

We have not an high priest which cannot be touched 
with the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in all points tempted 
like as we are, yet without sin. — Hebrews iv. 15. 

The Lord is good, a strong-hold in the day of trouble ; and 
He knoweth them that trust in Him. — Nahum i. 7. 



LO, I AM WITH THEE ! 

Lo, I am with thee !" Bid thy fears ■ 
And anxious sorrows cease ; 
My hands shall dry thy bitter tears, 
My lips shaU whisper peace. 

**Lo, I am with thee !" When the tomb 

Thy loved ones calls away, 
My voice shall cheer the valley's gloom 

With thoughts of endless day. 



264 



GONE BEFORE. 



Lo, I am with thee ! " What the loss 
Of all thou canst deplore, 
When placed beside the awful cross 
Which once for thee I bore ? 

Lo, I am with thee ! " When the bed 
Of languishing is thine, 
Thou sbalt repose thine aching head 
Upon My love divine. 

Lo, I am with thee ! " men the knell 
Of closing hours shall ring, 
jMine arm the fatal foe shall quell, 
And crush his vanquished sting. 

Lo, I am with thee ! " Still the same 
Through endless years above, 
'Mid brighter worlds I shall proclaim 
jNIy changeless, deathless love ! 

REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D. 



My right hand hath thine immortality 
In an eternal grasping. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



PEACE, BE STILL. 

How dehghtful to think that, amid all the troubles without, 
and all the tumults of the heart within, a Saviour's ear is ever 
opened — the gates to a throne of grace are never shut. Ves, 
though we may be conscious that much of our doubt, and dark- 
ness, and despondency can be traced to nothing but our own 
faithlessness ; though we may be conscious that we have our- 
selves roused the storm that ever and anon may be desolating 
our hearts ; there is yet room for calling upon Him who can say 
to the storms within, as to the storms without. Peace, be still ; 
and no tempest-tossed spirit in its sinking moments ever applied 
to Him for help, and applied in vain. 

Are there any thus tossed with tempest and refusing to be 



SYMPATHY. 



265 



comforted, whose faith is weak, whose hearts are desponding, 
whose love is cold, who are mourning over the departure of 
seasons of spiritual light and liberty and joy ? Let your hour 
of doubt and trembling be turned into an hour of prayer. You 
may have changed in your love to your Redeemer, forgotten and 
forsaken Him, rejected His grace and distrusted His faithful- 
ness ; but He is unchanged in His love towards you. The 
storm may have hid His face, but He is near you. For you 
there is still open a throne of grace. Go with the cry, Lord, 
save me, I perish ! " and you will find that the hour of supplica- 
tion will be turned into an hour of deliverance. 

REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D. 



GOD'S GOOD MERCY IN HIDING THE FUTURE. 
How good and merciful are God's concealments ! He will 
not disclose to us the painful future, because we could not bear 
it, and because He means, in all our hidden trials, with a 
Father's love to sustain and cheer us. 

REV. DR. MORISON. 

MORE THAN HUMAN SYMPATHY NEEDED. 
What greater minds, like Elijah's, have felt intensely, all we 
have felt m our own degree ! Not one of us but what has felt 
his heart aching for want of sympathy. We have had our lonely 
hours, our days of disappointment, and our moments of hope- 
lessness — times when our highest feelings have been misunder- 
stood, and our purest met with ridicule ; days when our heavy 
secret was lying unshared, like ice upon the heart. And then 
the spirit gives way ; we have wished that all were over ; that 
we could lie down tired, and rest like the children, from life ; 
that the hour was come when we could put down the extinguisher 
on the lamp and feel the last grand rush of darkness on the 
spirit. Now the final cause of this capacity for depression, the 
reason for which it is granted us, is that it may make God 
necessary. In such moments it is felt that sympathy beyond 
human, is needful. Alone, the world against him, Elijah turns 
to God. *' It is enough : now, O Lord." 

REV. F. W. ROBERTSON. 



266 



GONE BEFORE. 



EVER AND ANON OF GRIEFS SUBDUED THERE 
COMES A TOKEN. 
Ever and anon of gi-iefs subdued 
There comes a token like a scorpion's sting, 
Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued ; 
And slight withal may be the things which bring 
Back on the heart the weight which it would fling 
Aside for ever ; it may be a sound — 
A tone of music, — summer's eve— or spring, 
A flower — the wind — the ocean which shall wound, 
Striking the electric chain where^^ith we're darkly bound; 
And how and why we know not, nor can trace 
Home to its cloud this lightning of the mind, 
But feel the shock renewed, nor can efface 
The blight and blackening which it leaves behind, 
Which out of things familiar, midesigned. 
When least we deem of such, calls up to view 
The spectres whom no exorcism can bind. 
The cold — the changed — perchance the dead, anew, 
The mourned, the loved, the lost : too many, yet how few I 

LORD BYRON. 



Store thy mind with useful facts, 
Spend thy life in kindly acts. 
Seek out those that are in need, 
Heal the hearts that mutely bleed. 

Fyof?i the Gnzerutte. 

AFFLICTION TEACHES SYMPATHY. 

Affliction caches s}Tnpathy — 
Few have not some hidden trial, 
And could s}Tnpathize \\dth thine, 
* * * * 

Seldom can the heart be lonely, 
If it seek a lonelier still. 
Self-forgetting, seeking only 
Emptier cups of love to fill. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



SYMPATHY. 267 

Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that 
weep. — Rom. xii. 15. 

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus. — 
Phil. ii. 5. 



THE PROMPTINGS OF LOVE. 

The acceptableness wdth God of w^hat is done for Him is not 
regulated by the magnitude of the work, but by the spirit and 
principle from which it springs. The mdow's mite, tremblingly 
dropped into the treasury — the cup of cold water given to a dis- 
ciple in the name of a disciple — the whispered word or the 
sympathetic tear of one who has neither gold nor silver to offer, — 
these things, small in themselves, become large and valuable 
when prompted by love. If there be first a willing mind, it is 
accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to 
that he hath not." 

rev. t. binney. 



THE VALUE OF SYMPATHY. 

How much poorer is our talk than our feeling ! most of us are 
but half articulate. A few words with s^mipathy go further than 
volumes uttered to a dull heart and negligent ear. 

HOLME LEE. 

What sorrow was thou bad'st her know, 
And from her own, she learned to melt at others' woe. 

THOMAS GRAY. 

Ah ! my brethren, to tell one's grief to a hstening ear is to 
lighten it. Sympathy cannot take away, but does make more 
tolerable one's sufferings. To tell Jesus our grief in humble 
faith that in Him there is sympathy and power to lighten it, will 
bring, at least, the calm, quiet, and repose of resignation. ^ ' He 
IS touched with the feeling of our infirmities." 

REV. C. J. p. EYRE, M.A. 



268 



GONE BEFORE. 



HOW MANY SIMPLE WAYS THERE ARE TO BLESS! 

Through suffering and sorrow thou hast passed 
To show us what a woman true may be : 
They have not taken sympathy from thee, 
Nor made thee any other than thou wast, 
Save as some tree, which, in a sudden blast, 
Sheddeth those blossoms that are weakly grown, 
Upon the air, but keepeth every one 
Whose strength gives warrant of good fruit at last ; 
So thou hast shed some blooms of gaiety, 
But never one of steadfast cheerfulness ; 
Nor hath thy knowledge of adversity 
Robbed thee of any faith in happiness, 
But rather cleared thine inner eyes to see 
How many simple ways there are to bless. 

J. R. LOWELL. 



NOT ONE TEAR SHALL BE SHED BY YOU THAT 
DOES NOT HANG HEAVIER AT GOD'S HEART 
THAN ANY WORLD UPON HIS HAND. 

Divine pity is exercised in view of our sufferings, both of body 
and of mind. We sometimes fear to bring our troubles to God, 
because they must seem so small to Him who sitteth on the circle 
of the earth. But if they are large enough to vex and endanger 
our welfare, they are large enough to touch His heart of love. 
For love does not measure by a merchant's scales, nor \^dth a 
surveyor's chain. It hath a delicacy which is unknown in any 
handling of material substances. It sometimes seems as if God 
cared for nothing. The wicked are at ease. The good are 
vexed incessantly. The world is fuU of misrule and confusion. 
The darling of the flock is always made the sacrifice. Some 
child in the very midst of its glee becomes suddenly silent, — as 
a music-box, its spring giving way, stops in the midst of its 
strain, and never plays out the melody. The mother staggers 
and wanders blindly, as though day and night were mingled 



SYMPATHY. 



269 



into one, and struck through with preternatural influence of woe. 
But think . not that God's silence is coldness or indifference ! 
When Christ stood by the dead, the silence of tears interpreted 
His sympathy more wonderfully than even that voice which 
afterwards called back the footsteps of the brother from the grave, 
and planted them in life again. When birds are on the nest, 
preparing to bring forth life, they never sing. God's stillness is 
full of brooding. Not one tear shall be shed by you that does 
not hang heavier at His heart, than any world upon His hand ! 

REV. H. W. BEECHER. 



GOD'S OMNISCIENT LOVE. 

He works every moment in every part of this vast whole ; 
moves every atom, expands every leaf, finishes every blade of 
grass, erects every tree, conducts every particle of vapour, every 
drop of rain, and every flake of snow, guides every ray of light, 
breathes in every wind, thunders in every storm, wings the 
lightning, pours the streams and rivers, empties the volcanoe, 
heaves the ocean, and shakes the globe. In the universe of 
minds. He formed. He preserves, He animates, and He directs 
all the mysterious and wonderful powers of knowledge, virtue, 
and moral action, which fill up the infinite extent of His immense 
and eternal empire. In His contrivance of these things, their 
attributes and their operations, is seen a stupendous display of 
His immeasurable knowledge and wisdom. In them the end- 
lessly diversified character of uncreated wisdom, beauty, and 
greatness ha^ begun to be manifested, and will continue to be 
manifested with increasing splendour for ever. 

DR. DWIGHT. 



Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth ; and break forth into 
singing, O mountains : for the Lord hath comforted His people, 
and will have mercy upon His afflicted. But Zion said, The 
Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me. Can 
a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have com- 



270 



GONE BEFORE. 



passion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet 
will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the 
palms of my hands. — Isa. xlix. 13 — 16. 

thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted. The 
mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed ; but my 
kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant 
of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on 
thee. — Isa. liv. 10, ii. 

1 will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. — Heb. xiii. 5. 

In all their affliction He was afflicted, and the angel of His 
presence saved them : in His love and in His pity He redeemed 
them ; and He bare them, and carried them all the days of old. 
—-Isa. Ixiii. 9. 



GOD REMAINEST STILL THE SAME. 

Not Thou from us, O Lord, but we 
Withdraw ourselves from Thee. 

When we are dark and dead. 
And Thou art covered with a cloud, 
Hanging before Thee like a shroud, 
So that our prayer can find no way, 
O teach us that we do not say. 
Where is Thy brightness fled ? " 

But that we search and try. 

What in ourselves has wrought this blame. 

For Thou remainest still the same ; 

But earth's own vapours earth may fill 

With darkness and thick clouds, while still 

The sun is in the sky. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



Now men see not the bright light which is in the clouds ; 
but the wind passeth, and cleanseth them.— Job xxxvii. 21. 



SYMPATHY. 



271 



STRENGTH ALWAYS GIVEN. 
There is the remarkable fact in the experience of God's 
children, that what they expect as being a trouble which they 
can never bear, when the time actually comes for bearing it, 
they find they are able to do so, because of the grace and strength 
ministered to them by the Lord Jesus. Though in looking for- 
ward to an undefined trial we may hesitate whether we shall be 
ready for it, yet when the moment comes. He \vill enable us to 
say, I am ready to go wherever the Lord points, and to endure 
whatever He pleases, for the name of the Lord Jesus. 

REV. WM. CADMAN, M.A. ' 



'*IT IS I; BE NOT AFRAID." 

*'Be of good cheer : it is I ; be not afraid." The ground of 
consolation is in the middle clause. That fear-dispelling, comfort- 
giving *'It is I" must have fallen on their ears like a strain of 
celestial music. '^It is I." I, your Lord and Master. I who 
have oft-times before spoken peace in your hours of trouble. I 
who have bidden the weary and hea\y-laden come to have 
rest. I whose word has given light to the blind, and health to 
the diseased, and comfort to the mourner, and life to the dead. 
I who but a few brief hours ago had compassion on the multi- 
tudes, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd." 
Think you I will not much rather have compassion on you, My 
own sheep, who "follow Me and know My voice"? *'Be of 
good cheer : it is I ; " fear not. And who has not felt in the 
storm-night of the soul the soothing power of that voice, and 
that presence, and that word ? " It is I." Jesus liveth. Oh ! 
it is the felt presence, and power, and love of a Saviour God, 
which is the secret of the Christian's strength ; not Jesus, a 
distant abstraction — ^Jesus, some mythical being of superhuman 
might, soaring far beyond human conception and human 
sympathy ; but Jesus, the personal Sa\dour, the li%'ing One, the 
acting One, the controlling One (ay, and to as many as He 
loves), the rebuking One and the Chastening One ! The hand 
of Jesus, and the wdU of Jesus, and the love of Jesus, is to him 
seen in everything. "It is I," is to him pencilled on every 



272 



GONE BEFORE. 



flower, murmured in every "breeze, wa\'ing on every forest 
branch. It is the superscription in every event in providence. 
It gleams in gilded letters in prosperity. It stands brightly out 
in the dark and cloudy day. It is written on every sick pillow, 
on every death chamber, on every vacant chair and vacant heart, 
circling in undying echoes wherever there is a soul to comfort 
or a tear to dry. 

REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D. 



LOVING MEMORIES. 

It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature, that when 
the heart is touched and softened by some tranquil happiness or 
affectionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes over it most 
powerfully and irresistibly. It would almost seem as though 
our better thoughts and s}Tnpathies were charms, in virtue of 
which the soul is enabled to hold some vague and mysterious 
intercourse with the spirits of those whom we dearly loved in 
life. 

Alas ! how often and how long may those patient angels 
hover above us, watching for the spell which is so seldom uttered, 
and so soon forgotten ! 

CHARLES DICKENS. 

THOU, SAVIOUR, MARK'ST THE TEARS I SHED. 
When mourning o'er some stone I bend, 
Which covers all that was a friend, 
And from his hand, his voice, his smile, 
Divides me for a little while ; 
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I ,shed, 
For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead. 
And oh ! when I have safely passed 
Through every conflict but the last; 
Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
My dying bed — for Thou hast died ; 
Then point to realms of cloudless day. 
And wipe the latest tears away. 

ROBERT GRANT. 



SYMPATHY. 



273 



SORROW REVEALS HEAVEN TO US. 

The soul that hath not sorrowed 

Knows neither its own weakness nor its strength. 

Sorrow reveals heaven to us ; for our souls 

Hang in the infinite-like sun-dyed globes 

On which the time-rays of the present play : 

But ever and anon a shadow comes 

Over and on them, cast forth from their thrones 

In the great World-to-come, when a bright seraph 

Glides like a glow behind them. 

J. STANYAN BIGG. 

REJOICE IN TRIBULATION; 

Whilst they are to beware of despising God's chastening, it is 
equally incumbent upon them to guard against falling into the 
other extreme of fainting when they are rebuked of Him." 
How severe or long continued soever their trials may be, they 
must patiently bear them. They must drink the bitter cup they 
would wish to avoid, without repining or murmuring against Him 
who administers it ; and they must cheerfuUy acquiesce in what- 
ever He is pleased to appoint. Nay, they are required even to 

rejoice in tribulation: knowing that tribulation worketh 
patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope ; " say- 
ing \vith St. Paul, *'Most gladly therefore will I rather glory 
in my infirmities, that the pov/er of Christ may rest on me. 
Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessi- 
ties, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake : for when I 
am weak, then am I strong." Then is the calm tranquillity of 
soul and cheerful acquiescence in the divine dispensations to 
which we are here called. Surely it well becomes us earnestly 
and diligently to seek this heavenly temper. It will prove the 
surest antidote to all the multifarious ills of human life. When 
all other sources of rehef are dried up, it will be found a never- 
failing fountain of consolation to the weary and fainting spirit, 
even in the lowest depths of sorrow. Happy is he who is thus 
enabled to calm the perturbation of his feelings in times of deep 
and various afflictions, and whose mind is ' ' stayed on God, 
because he trusteth in Him." rev. peter grant. 

T 



274 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE LORD IS THE LIFE OF ALL THAT LIVES. 

The Lord of all, Himself through all diffased, 
Sustains and is the life of all that lives. 
Nature is but a name for an effect 
^\'^lOse cause is God. He feeds the secret fire 
By which the mighty process is maintained, 
Who sleeps not — is not weary ; in whose sight 
Slow circling ages are as transient days ; 
\Miose work is ^^-ithout labour ; whose designs 
No flaw deforms, no difhculry thwarts, 
And whose beneficence no change exhausts. 

cow PER. 



LEAN UPON CHRIST. 

In Christ we see the perfections of Deity, so that there is the 
greatest encouragement to lean upon Him. In Him we see all 
the sympathy and tenderness of humanity, and therefore we may 
be encouraged to come to Him as a brother. In Him we see all 
the security of the everlasting covenant, for it is secured in Him 
and made with Him. In Him we see the daily Governor of all 
things — the Giver of all good things, and not only so., but One 
who is causing ' ' all things to work together for good to them 
that love Him." Now this is a lesson, dear brethren, that we 
should endeavour to have woven into our hearts. Are we lovers 
of the Son of God? Then how quietly and calmly we may sit 
down under the dispensations of God I You may be assured that 
all things are working together for good to you. You must 
remember, my dear brethren, the whole combination of things. 
Some things may, perhaps, be productive of sorrow to ycu, 
while others may be productive of gladness. It is not the 
sorrow that is all e^dl, nor is it the joy that is all good, but it is 
through the way in which these things are mingled that they so 
work together for your good. What patience this ought to 
teach us, then, when under a dispensation which is dark and 
cloudy ! and what caution this should fiU our souls -^dth when 
we are in the sunshine, so to speak, of God's love I It is then 
that we should walk watchfully and prayerfully ; it is then that 



SYMPATHY. 



275 



we should remember that although our mountain may seem to 
stand strong now, yet if God hides His face we shall be troubled. 
There is no security, my dear brethren, but standing really and 
truly upon the rock Christ Jesus, and resting wholly upon Him. 
The believer may say, ' ' For Thou hast been a shelter to me, and 
a strong tower firom the enemy." You see the experience of 
the past may confirm our hope for the future, for He is "the 
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever," and "They that know 
Thy name will put their trust in Thee." 

REV. JOHN WILLIAM REEVE, M.A. 



GOD OUR HELPER AND SUPPORT IN TIME OF 
NEED. 

When we pray, " Help us, O Lord our God," for we 
"rest on Thee ;" we do not say, "take away all care from 
us, take away all effort and duty from us : but give us succour 
and assistance ; perfect Thy strength in our weakness ; lay 
Thine own almighty shoulder beneath the burden that would 
crush us to the dust ; put strength in us, and make us more than 
conquerors through Him that hath loved us." It is the very 
spirit of prayer not to ask for a sign or miracle on our behalf, 
but to look to God in the use of practical means, to make us 
omnipotent in Thy strength. " Help us, O Lord our God."' 
Ask this day by day, ask it in everything ; ask it above all in 
the hour of need. If you held your child by the hand and were 
leading it, and told that child it was continually to appeal to you 
when alarmed, would it not be sweet music to your ear to hear 
the child's trembling voice again and again saying, " Help me, 
father " ? And when the child struck its foot against a stone, 
or saw a deep pit behind it, or when it beheld in the distance, 
phantoms which its fears had conjured up, then with fresh im- 
portunities would the child say, "Help me, father." And so 
you need the hand of God to guide you every hour and in every- 
thing. You cannot resist the smallest temptation, you cannot 
-wTestle vnth your spiritual foe^ unless you be " strong in the 
Lord, and in the power of His might." Much less can you bear 
up against the storm, when thunder rends the heavens, unless the 



276 



GONE BEFORE. 



language of your heart be, in all earnestness and in all impor- 
tunity, Help us, O Lord our God, for we rest on Thee." He 
that rests on Him, rests on One who is the same yesterday, and 
to-day, and for ever; "in whom is no variableness, neither 
shadow of turning." 

REV. HUGH STOWELL, M.A. 

REST IN GOD. 

XOR can the vain toil cease 

Till in the shadov^y maze we meet 

One who can guide our aching wayward feet 

To find Himself our way, our life, our peace. 

In Him the long unrest is soothed and stilled; 

Our hearts are filled. 
O rest, so true, so sweet ! 

(Would it were shared by all the wear}' world I). 
'Xeath shado^\ing banner of His love unfurled, 
We bend to kiss the Masters pierced feet ; 
Then lean our love upon His loving breast, 
And know God's rest. 

FR.\^XES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 

I HEARD the voice of Jesus say, 

Come unto Me, and rest ; 
Lay do^^m, thou weary one, lay down 

Thy head upon ^ly breast. 
I came to Jesus as I was, 

Weaiy and worn and sad ; 
I found in Him a resting-place, 

And He has made me glad. 

REV. HORATIUS BOXAR. 



BENEVOLENT INTENSITY OF GOD'S REGARD 

TOWARDS HIS CHILDREN. 
God's pro\-idential regard towards His children is charac- 
terized by its bcftrjolent intensity. I can think of no phrase 



SYMPATHY. 



277 



better fitted to express all than those words, — He careth for 
you." Of course, kindness is the radical idea underlying the 
term ; but it is not mere kindness ; it is not a sentiment solely ; 
it is rather zealous, devoted, soul-absorbing, laborious kindness : 
and that is just what God's care for His children is. It is a 
strong and influential, as well as a benevolent principle. It is a 
yearning concern for our well-being, always, if I may say it 
reverently, putting Him upon some plan and endeavour to do us 
good. God is never indifferent about anything that relates to us ; 
His interest in us never flags and grows cold. We think it does 
— we imagine, foolishly and wickedly, that there are times when 
He almost ceases to care about us, or when he cares for us with 
diminished warmth and tenderness. We picture Him to our- 
selves as taken up with other and weightier affairs than ours, 
and as forgetful of us amid the vast concernments of His 
illimitable empire. We are perhaps on a sick bed, or battling 
^vith some great trial, and we seem to be left alone. We are 
faint and weary, and we do not feel His hand sustaining us ; and 
moodily we begin to question whether he is near at all, or helps 
us in any way. But, my friends, all this is failure in us, not in 
our God. We are wronging Him by attributing to Him our 
weakness and limitation. He is not denying Himself ; He can- 
not do so. He is ^*the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." 
His loving care is subject to no ebbs and flows ; it is one and 
immutable, like Himself. However our feelings may vary to- 
wards Him — and, alas ! we are fickle and changeful as the wind 
— His feeling does not alter with respect to us, and that feeling 
is one of intensest interest in us, a feeling with which there is 
nothing that we can compare it, except it be a mother's watchful 
solicitude for her child, though even that comparison fails, for 
God says, Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she 
should not have compassion upon the son of her womb ? Yea, 
they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have 
graven thee upon the palms of My hands ; thy walls are con- 
tinually before me." How inexpressibly deep and tender, then, 
must be the feeling which prompts the ceaseless care of God 
over His people ! 

REV. C. M. MERRY. 



278 



GONE BEFORE. 



LINKED WITH GOD. 

Have you ever thought, my dear friends, that no event in your 
life can possibly be trifling — that your whole life is made up of a 
series of events, all working together for one end and that if in 
the chain of your life there be wanting one link of the principle 
of love to God, the whole chain is destroyed ? Thus, then, 
every circumstance of your life is important, every circumstance 
is working for your o^yn happiness and your own glory, if you 
do not mar it. And, remember, it depends upon the spirit in 
which you live, upon the spirit which you carry with you in 
your daily life, whether all things are or are not working 
together for your good. Remember, too, that they all work 
togethe}' — that there is no one event in your life to be considered 
apart and by itself from other events. There is a temptation to 
men under the pressure of sorrow or trial to look only at the 
immediate present, and to be distressed because they cannot see 
how this particular event, at this moment, is able to work for 
their good. But you are to remember this, that all things work 
— that all things work together, — that your whole life is made up 
of these events ; and that as progress in most of God's works is 
made up of many circumstances, so it is not by taking one event 
of your life and examining it in its immediate consequences that 
you are to draw the conclusion, "This is good," or, "That is 
evil but you are to remember that your life is made up of 
different events, which are really united and working together. 
Therefore we learn the lesson of patient waiting for God, of 
quiet assurance and settled faith, that if God has given us the 
infinite blessing and grace of love to Him, that blessing and 
grace which unite to give us all other blessings and graces — nay, 
that includes all other blessings, and that sums up all other 
graces, — all things must most assuredly, so surely as God is 
greater than the evil one, so surely as He must at last prevail 
over evil, — all things inust work together for our good if we 
"love God." 

REV. W. C. MAGEE, B.D. 



SYMPATHY. 



279 



THE MARVELLOUS LOVE OF CHRIST. 

In any trial or difficulty, deliverance and support are not 
found in casting away our doubts, but in the Lord coming to us 
\vith a revelation of His own personal presence, which drives 
all doubt away. It is the sunbeam coming in at the window 
where the shutter had been but just taken down, and in the 
might of its own glory illuminating what was dark before. And 
so, beloved brethren, you and I look for it to be with us. I 
doubt not that many of you have known this blessed truth, those 
that have worshipped Him in the uttermost casting down of their 
souls ; in some great trouble from without, which seemed so to 
cover their spirit with darkness, that they could hardly rise up 
towards Him, and those who have come in some downcasting of 
the soul because temptation has mastered them, and they are 
ashamed to look up to the Lord whom they have offended ; 
those who come with doubts like moats in the sunbeam floating 
through their hearts and almost seeming for the time to destroy 
their apprehension of religious truth, — they, as they have knelt 
before Him, have heard from His mouth the consolatory words 

Peace be unto you." And then that dealing inwardly with 
their souls, which marks His power of reading them ; the reve- 
lation to the soul's eye of His form of majesty, of His look of 
love, of His enduring faithfulness, of His gentleness to those who 
are in distress, trouble, or bereavement, — these things have been 
brought home to some of you, so that your heart has wondered 
at the marvellous love of Him who has died to save you, and to 
pour the brightness of His reconciled countenance in its light of 
love into the very recesses of your disconsolate and darkened 
spirit. 

RIGHT REV. LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER 
(dr. SAMUEL WILBERFORCE). 



WORDS OF PROMISE. 

And all these lines are underscored, ana here 
And there a tear hath been and left its stain, — 

The only record, haply, of a tear 

Long wiped from eyes no more to weep again. 



280 



GONE BEFORE. 



And, as I gaze, a solemn joy comes o'er me : 
By these deep footprints I can surely guess 

Some pilgrim, by the road that lies before me, 
Hath crossed, long time ago, the wilderness. 

With feet oft bruised among its sharp flints, duly 
He turned aside to gather simples here, 

And lay up cordials for his faintness : truly, 
Now will I track his steps, and be of cheer. 

And, wearied, by this wayside fountain's brink 

He sat to rest : and, as it then befell, 
The stone was rolled away ; he stooped to drink 

The waters springing up from life's clear well. 

And oft, upon his journey faring sadly. 

He communed with this Teacher from on high ; 

And, meeting words of promise, meekly, gladly, 
Went on his way rejoicing. So will I. 

DORA GREENWELL. 



GOD'S WORD A LIGHT TO OUR PATH. 

God will be found of each one of us in the path of life that 
He marks out for us. He gives us — it is most true, and blessed 
be His namic for it, — He gives us days when we can assemble 
together to hear of these things ; but He does not give us the 
invitation to come and draw near and live on these days only. 
He gives us times of sorrow, times of solemn thought, times of 
bereavement ; and I believe that when we get to the other side 
of the water and look back upon the map of our present course, 
we shall see that these were our green places, and these were 
our still waters of comfort, and these were our recallings to Him. 
. . . God must be the centre of your spirits if they are to 
live ; just as much as the sun must be the centre of this system 
if it is to go on in harmony, so God must be the centre round 
whom your spirits are to revolve in the ordinary orbit of life. 
You must look at His will — that will must be a guide to you. 



SYMPATHY. 281 

You must look at His word — that word must be a lamp to your 
feet and a light to your paths. 

DEAN ALFORD. 



GOD'S INEXHAUSTIBLE COMPASSION FOR MAN. 

While the divine character dra^oi in the Bible hath gi'eat 
depth of shadow in justice, all its salient points stand forth in 
the high lights of love and mercy. God is full of near, real, 
overflowing, and inexhaustible compassion for man . God's pity 
abides even as He abides, and partakes of the divine grandeur 
and omnipotence. There is a whole eternity in it for substance 
and duration. His pity is infinite, moving with equal step to 
all the other attributes of God, and holding its course and path 
as far forth as omniscience doth ; it paces with omnipresence 
along the circuits of infinity. *'For as heaven is high above 
the earth, so great is His mercy toward them that fear Him ; 
as far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our 
transgressions from us." **Like as a father pitiethhis children, 
so doth the Lord pity us ; for He knoweth our frame." God's 
pitiful mercy is not as some sweet cordial, poured in dainty drops 
from a golden phial. It is not like the musical water-drops of 
some slender rill, murmuring down the dark sides of Mount 
Sinai. It is wide as the whole cope of heaven. It is abun- 
dant as all the air. If one had art to gather up all the golden 
sunlight that to-day falls wide over all this continent — falling 
through every silent hour ; and all that is dispersed over the whole 
ocean, flashing from every wave ; and all that is poured refulgent 
over the northern wastes of ice, and along the whole continent 
of Europe, and the vast outlying Asia, and torrid Africa ; if one 
could in anywise gather up this immense and incalculable outflow 
and treasure of sunlight that falls down through the bright hours, 
and runs in liquid ether about the mountains, and fills all the 
plains, and sends innumerable rays through every secret place, 
pouring over and filling every flower, shining down the sides of 
every blade of grass, resting in glorious humility upon the hum- 
blest things — on stick and stone and pebble ; on the spider's web, 
the sparrow's nest, the threshold of the young fox's hole ; that 



282 



GONE BEFORE. 



rests on the prisoner's window, that strikes radiant beams through 
the slave's tear, that puts gold upon the widow's weeds, that 
plates and roofs the city with burnished gold, and goes on in its 
wild abundance up and do\\Ti the earth, shining everywhere and 
always, since the day of primal creation, without faltering, with- 
out stint, without waste or diminution ; as full, as fresh, as over- 
flowing to-day as if it were the very first day of its outplay — if 
one might gather up this boundless, endless, infinite treasure, to 
measure it, then might he tell the height and depth and unending 
glory of the pity of God. The light, and the sun its source, 
are God's o\vn figures of the immensity and copiousness of His 
mercy and compassion. 

REV. H. W. BEECHER. 



If thou hadst gazed upon the face of God 
This morning for a moment, thou hadst known 
That only pity fitly can chastise. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



COUNSEL MITIGATES THE GREATEST SMART. 
Let me entreat 
You to unfold the anguish of your heart ; 
Mishaps are mastered by advice discreet, 
And counsel mitigates the greatest smart. 

SPENSER. 



TO MINISTER COMFORT TO A WEARY SOUL. 

Certain it is, that as nothing can better do it, so there is 
nothing greater for which God made our tongues, next to 
reciting His praises, than to minister comfort to a weary soul. 
And what greater pleasure can we have than that we should 
bring joy to our brother, who, with his dreary eyes, looks to 
heaven and round about, and cannot find so much rest as to lay 
his eyelids close together ; than that thy tongue should be tuned 
with heavenly accents, and make the weary soul to listen for 



SYMPATHY. 



283 



light and ease ; and when he perceives that there is such a thing 
in the world and in the order of things as comfort and joy, to begin 
to break out from the prison of his sorrows at the door of sighs and 
tears, and by little and little melt into showers and refresh- 
ment ? This is glory to thy voice, and emplo}TTient fit for the 
brightest angel. But so have I seen the sun kiss the frozen 
earth, which was bound up A^dth the images of death, and the 
colder breath of the north; and then the waters break from their 
enclosures, and melt with joy, and run in useful channels; and 
the flies do rise again from their little graves in walls, and dance 
awhile in the air, to tell that there is joy within, and that the 
great mother of creatures will open the stock of her new refresh- 
ment, become useful to mankind, and sing praises to her 
redeemer ; so is the heart of a sorro\\"ful man under the dis- 
courses of a wise comforter: he breaks from the despairs of the 
grave, and the fetters and chains of sorrow ; he blesses God and 
he blesses thee, and he feels his life returning ; for to be miserable 
is death, but nothing is life but to be comforted ; and God is 
pleased with no music from below so much as in the thanksgiving 
songs of relieved widows, of supported orphans, of rejoicing and 
comforted and thankful persons. 

JEREMY TAYLOR. 



The capacity of sorrow belongs to our grandeur, and the 
loftiest of our race are those who have had the profoundest 
sympathies, because they have had the profoundest sorrows. 

HENRY GILES. 



IMay He who taught the morning stars to sing, 
Aye keep my chalice cool, and pure, and sweet, 

And grant me so with lo\dng hand to bring 
Refreshment to His weary ones, — to meet 

Their thirst with water from God's music-spring ; 
And, bearing thus, to pour it at His feet. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



284 



GONE BEFORE. 



I 



AFFLICTION THE INTERPRETER. 

What an interpreter of Scripture is affliction ! How many- 
stars in its heaven shine out brightly in the night of sorrow and 
pain which were unperceived or overlooked in the garish day of 
prosperity ! What an enlarger of Scripture is any other minor 
event which stirs the depths of our hearts, which touches us near 
to the core and centre of our lives. Trouble of spirit, con- 
demnation of conscience, sudden danger, strong temptation ; 
when any of these overtake us, what veils do they take away, 
that we may see what hitherto we saw not ? What new domains 
of God's word do they bring within our spiritual ken ! How 
do promises, which once fell flat upon our ears, become pre- 
cious now, psalms become our own, which before were aloof 
from us ! How do we see things now with the eye which 
before we only knew by the hearing of the ear, which 
before men had told us, but now we ourselves have found, so 
that on these accounts also the Scripture is fitted to be our com- 
panion, and to do us good all the years of our life. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 



COMFORT FROM GOD. 

Cease we to dream. Our thoughts are yet more dim 
Than children's are, who put their trust in Him. 
All that our wisdom knows, or ever can, 
Is this, that God hath pity upon man ; 
And where His Spirit shines in Holy Writ, 
The great word Comforter comes after it. 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 



Our woes are like the moon reversed, the broad 
bright disc 

Turned heavenwards — the dark side towards us ; 
Till God in His great mercy moves them round. 
And rolls them with a wise and gentle hand. 
Into the dim horizon of the past, 
To bless us with their smile of tear-like lustre. 

J. stanyan bigg. 



SYMPATHY. 



285 



RELIGIOUS BALM. 
Nature hath assigned 
Two sovereign remedies for human grief ; 
Religion, sweetest, firmest, first, and best, 
Strength to the weak, and to the wounded balm ; 
And strenuous action next. 

SOUTHEY. 

The Gospel's glorious hope, 

Its rules of purity, its eye of prayer, 

Its feet of firmness on temptation's steep, 

Its bark that fails not 'mid the storm of death. 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 

Soft hands steahng into ours in the dark, and holding us fast 
without a spoken word. 

ELIZABETH S. PHELPS. 

I \VOULD EMBRACE THY CARE. 
Child of My love, '-'lean hard,'' 
And let Me feel the pressure of thy care, 
I know thy burden, child : I shaped it. 
Poised it in !My own hand, made no proportion 
In its weight to thine unaided strength ; 
For even as I laid it oru I said, 
I shall be near ; and while she leans on r^Ie 
This burden shall be Mine, not hers : 
So shall I keep ^ly child within the circling arms 
Of " Mine own love." Here lay it dov,m, nor fear 
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds 
The government of worlds, yet closer come ; 
Thou art not near enough, I would embrace thy care, 
So I might feel ^ly child repMDsing on my breast. 
Thou lovest me, I know it— doubt not, then ; 
But loving Me — lean hard ! 

REV. W. TYLER. 



286 



GONE BEFORE. 



CHRIST, THE COMFORTER. 

Peace ! peace ! One draweth near Thy door 
Whose footsteps leave no print across the snow ; 
Thy sun has risen with comfort in his face ; 
The smile of heaven, to warm thy frozen heart 
And bless with saintly hand. 

***** 

I died for thee ; for thee I am alive, 
And my humanity doth mourn for thee, 
For thou art mine ; and all thy little ones, 
They too are mine — are mine. 

. . . and thou shalt warm 
Thy trembling life beneath the smile of God. 

JEAN INGELOW. 



" On Him whose face was sorrow's morning-star." 

ROBERT BUCHANAN. 



The Lord^s portion is his people ! He found him in a desert 
land, and in the waste howling wilderness; he led him about, he 
instructed him, he kept him as the apple of his eye. As an 
eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth 
abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings : So 
the Lord alone did lead him. — Deut. xxxii. 9 — 12. 

The Lord, He it is that doth go before thee ; He will be 
with thee, He will not fail thee, neither forsake thee : fear not, 
neither be dismayed. — Deut. xxxi. 8. 

Jesus said, weep not; she is not dead, but sleepeth. — Luke 
viii. 52. 

Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for you. — 
I Peter v. 7. 



CONSOLATION. 



EVERY ONE HAS HIS SORROW ACCORDING TO 
HIS MEASURE. 

It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, for 
whatever of those evils happens not, it is through the pro- 
tecting hand of the Most High, which compasses us about with 
so much might, that Satan and all evils are compelled to stand 
and rage that they have no power over us. Hence we see how 
sweetly the Lord ought to be loved under the daily evils that 
come upon us ; because, under any one evil, our most loving 
Father calls upon us to consider how many evils surround us, 
and would fall upon us, were it not for His protecting hand ; as 
if He said unto us, Satan and a whole chaos of evils are ready 
to rush upon thee, that they may grind thee to powder ; but I 
have set the bounds of the sea, and have said unto it, 
* * Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further : and here shall thy 
proud waves be stayed." Every one has his sorrow according to 
his measure, and that not beyond his powers to bear ; as in 
Ps. Ixxx., ''Thou feedest them with the bread of tears, and 
givest them tears to drink in measure." The same also does St. 
Paul say (i Cor. x.), *' But God is faithful, who will not suffer 
you to be tempted above that ye are able, but will with the 
temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to 
bear it." And where the evil is the greater, there is a greater 
provision also of the divine assistance. 

MARTIN LUTHER, 



288 



•GONE BEFORE. 



RELIGION AN UNDECAYING SOURCE OF 
CONSOLATION. 

Religion, whether natural or revealed, has always the same 
beneficial influence on the mind. In youth, in health, and 
prosperity, it awakens feelings of gratitude and sublime love, 
and purifies at the same time that which it exalts ; but it is in 
misfortune, in sickness, in age, that its effects are most truly 
and beneficially felt ; when submission in faith and humble trust 
in the di%dne ^vill, from duties become pleasures, undeca^fing 
sources of consolation ; then it creates powers which were 
believed to be extinct, and gives a freshness to the mind which ^ 
was supposed to have passed away for ever, but which is now 
renovated as an immortal hope. Its influence outHves all 
earthly enjoyments, and becomes stronger as the organs decay 
and the frame dissolves ; it appears as that evening star of light 
in the horizon of life which we are sure is to become, in another 
season, a morning star, and it throws its radiance through the 
gloom and shadow of death. 

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY, 



Ask the Christian, when most afllicted and cast down, whether 
his reUgion has left him wretched and comfortless ; and what it 
his answer ? He will tell you that he would not exchange his most 
sorro\^^ul hour for your happiest day ; that he has habitually, 
within his afllicted soul, consolations which are more than 
earthly, that he has sometimes a joy which is indeed divine ; a 
joy rational and sober, and yet so elevated and sweet that is 
brings into his heart a foretaste of heaven. ... It is an 
everlasting joy, imperishable as his soul. The same song which 
he is singing now, his enraptured lips will soon pour forth in the 
courts of Zion before his God ; and it shall be sweet as the song 
of angels, and lasting as eternity. 

C. BRADLEY. 



CONSOLATION. 



289 



THE CHRISTIAN STANDS NIGH TO GOD. 

Those trees flourish most, and bear sweetest fruits, which 
stand most in the sun. The praying Christian stands nigh to 
God, and hath God nigh to him in all that he calls upon Him 
for, in every trial through which he is called to pass ; and there- 
fore you may expect his fruits to be sweet and ripe. 

WILLIAM GURNALL. 



RELIGION WILL BRIGHTEN THE MOST GLOOMY 
SCENE. 

Oh the wonders it will accomplish ! It wipes guilt from the 
conscience, rolls the world out of the heart, and darkness from 
the mind. It will brighten the most gloomy scene, smooth the 
most rugged path, and cheer the most despairing mind. It will 
put honey mto the bitterest cup, and health into the most diseased 
soul. It will give hope to the heart, health to the face, oil to 
the head, light to the eye, strength to the hand, and swiftness to 
the foot. It will make life pleasant, labour sweet, and death 
triumphant. It gives faith to the fearful, courage to the timid, 
and strength to the weak. It robs the grave of its terrors, and 
death of its sting. It subdues sin, severs from self, makes faith 
strong, love active, hope lively, and zeal invincible. It gives 
sonship for slavery, robes for rags,* makes the cross light and 
reproach pleasant ; it will transform a dungeon into a palace, 
and make the fires of martyrdom as refreshing as the cool breeze 
of summer. It snaps legal bonds, loosens the soul, clarifies the 
mind, purifies the affections, and often lifts the saint to the very 
gates of heaven. . . . No man can deserve it ; money cannot 
buy it, or good deeds procure it ; grace reigns here ! 

REV. — BALFERN. 



Trouble and perplexity drive me to prayer, and prayer 
drives away perplexity and trouble. 

MELANCTHON. 

u 



290 



GONE BEFORE. 



PRAYER. 

More things arc wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. 

* * * * 

For so the whole round world is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 

TEXNYSOy. 

Consider what a heavenly wonder must be the Book of 
Prayer that lies before God I For groans are interpreted there. 
Mute joys gain tongue before God. Unutterable desires that go 
silently up from the heart burst forth into divine pleadings, 
when, touched by the Spirit, their im.prisoned nature comes forth. 
Could thoughts or aspirations be made visible, could they assume 
a form that befitted their nature, what an endless procession 
would be seen going towards the throne of God day and night ! 
Consider the wrestlings of all the wretched, the en.- of orphans, 
the ceaseless pleadings of the bereaved, and of those fearing 
bereavement ; the prayer of trust betrayed, of hope darkened, 
of home deserted, of j oy quenched ; the prayers of faithful men 
from dungeons and prison-houses ; the prayers of slaves, who 
found man, law, and the church twined around and set against 
them, and had no way left to look, but upward toward God ! Beds 
of long-lingering sickness have learned such thoughts of resigna- 
tion, and such patient trust and joy, that the heavenly book is 
bright with the footprints of their prayers. The very silence 
of sickness is often more full of richer thoughts than all the 
books of earth have ever been. " And when He had taken the 
book, the four living creatures and four and twenty elders fell 
down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps, and 
golden vials full of odours, which are the prayers of saints.''' 
How grand is the thought, that all over the earth, God's angels 
have caught the heart's breath, its prayers and love, and that 
in heaven they are before God like precious odours poured from 
golden vases by saintly hands ! The influences which are at work 
upon the soul in such a covert as the closet, are not like the coarse 
stimulants of earthly thought. It is no fierce rivalry, no conflict 



CONSOLATION. 



291 



for victory, no hope of praise or hunger of fame, that throws a lurid 
light upon the mind. The soul rises to its highest nature, and 
meets the influence that rests upon it from above. What is the 
depth of calmness, what is the vision of faith, what is the rapture, 
the ecstasy of love, the closet knows more grandly than any other 
place of human experience. 

REV. H. W. BEECHER. 



Thou art true, Incarnate Lord ! 

Who didst vouchsafe for man to die ; 
Thy smile is sure. Thy plighted word 

No change can falsify. 
I bent before Thy gracious throne, 

And asked for peace with suppliant knee ; 
And peace was given, — nor peace alone, 

But faith sublimed to ecstasy ! 

WORDSWORTH. 



Unto you that fear My name shall the Sun of Righteousness 
arise with healing in His vyings. — Mai. iv. 2. 



OUR SAVIOUR'S FRIENDSHIP. 

This must be the great characteristic of a heart given to God's 
service, that it realizes the presence and is filled with the love of 
the Lord Jesus Christ his Friend — a Friend who will not leave us 
when earthly friends fail, but will be with us on our death-bed, 
and welcome us to the world beyond the grave. Whether we 
live long or die early, if we keep near to Him, we shall be safe 
with Him in the trials of life, and in the great trial of the end 
of life" 

Truly, when we look upon the dangers that do beset all of us 
in our daily life, we dare not think that we can stand, if it 
were not for such promises as God has given us. How cheer- 
ing, in the midst of temptation, trial, and weakness, to hear 
Christ say to us, Fear not ; for from the first day that thou didst 
set thy heart to understand, and to chasten thyself before thy 
God, thy words were heard." Also the other, — He who hath 



292 



GONE BEFORE. 



begun a good work in you perform it until the day of Jesus 
Christ." Let us take it up. God will keep us safe ; He will 
give us all that is for our soul's good if we are resolved to be 
on His side. 

HIS GRACE THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY 
(DR. ARCHIBALD C. TAIT). 



DO ALL THINGS TO JESUS. 
When thou hast learnt to do all things to Jesus, it ^nll shed 
pleasure over all dull things, sofmess over all hard things, peace 
over all trial, and woe, and suspense ; it vnll make contradiction 
sweet to bear it meekly with Jesus ; poverty honourable to be 
poor with Jesus ; it will but gladden toil to laboui- for Jesus ; 
and sweet will be repose which rests safe on the breast of Jesus ; 
then will life be glad, when thou livest to Jesus ; and sweet 
death to die in Jesus ; with Him, and to Him, and in Him, to 
live for evemiore. 

DR. PUSEY. 



COMFORT STREAMS FROM GOD. 
Happiness and comfort stream immediately from God Himself, 
as hght issues from the sun, and sometimes looks and darts 
itself into the meanest corners, while it forbears to visit the 
largest and the noblest rooms. Every man is happy or miserable 
as the temper of his mind places him either directly under, or 
beside the influences of the Divine nature, which enlighten and 
enliven the well-disposed mind with secret, ineffable joys, 

DR. SOUTH. 

Rest is [a restorative for] labour, and medicines for heakh. 

ROGER ASCHAM. 



DISCIPLINE IS FOR THY GOOD. 
Is the pious man in need ? He hath then an in\-isible refuge 
to flj to, an invisible store to furnish him ; he hath somewhat 



CONSOLATIOX 



293 



beyond all present things to hope in, to comfort himself -vs^th. 
Is the good man in affliction ? — He knoweth that it cometh not on 
him without God's wise appointment, nor without good intention 
toward him, for probation, exercise and improvement of his 
virtues, or for wholesome correction of his bad dispositions ; 
that it is only physic and discipline to him, which shall have a 
comfortable issue, and that it shall last no longer than it is 
expedient for him that it should. 

ISAAC BARROW. 



TO THY REDEEMER TAKE EACH CARE. 

Hast thou within a care so deep, 
It chases from thine eyelids sleep ? 
To thy Redeemer take that care, 
And change anxiety to prayer. 

Hast thou a hope with which thy heart 
Would feel it almost death to part ? 
Entreat thy God that hope to crown, 
Or give thee strength to lay it dowm. 

Hast thou a friend whose image dear 
May prove an idol worshipped here ? 
Implore the Lord that nought may be 
A shadow between heaven and thee, 

Whate'er the care which breaks thy rest, 
Whate'er the wish that swells thy breast, 
Spread before God that wish, that care 
And change anxiety to prayer. 

F?vm Hymns selected by Rev. J, C, Ryle, 



CHRIST ALL IN ALL. 

It ought to be a great encouragement to us to throw ourselves 
upon the tender mercies of God, as our gracious Father and 
Preserver, to remember that He has delegated the administration 
of the kingdom of this world to His Son Jesus Christ, our glori- 
fied Saviour, a righteous and a merciful King. " All power is 



294 



GONE BEFORE. 



given unto Him in heaven and on earth." It adds strength and 
clearness to our convictions of God's providential government, 
to know that it is carried on by our great Mediator and Inter- 
cessor, by w^hom and for whom all things were created ; who 
from the throne of His glory beholds and cares for the meanest 
as well as the mightiest of his subjects, and is the merciful 
Receiver of all true penitent sinners in their every hour of need 
and sorrow. 

RIGHT REV. LORD BISHOP OF LONDON 
(dr. C. J. BLOMFIELD). 



CHRIST OUR COMFORTER. 
Christ has not taken the sins alone, but the sorrows also of 
mankind upon Himself, for those who place their hope and put 
their trust in Him. He not only says, *'Thy sins are forgiven 
thee," but adds this comfort in affliction, — Come unto Me, all 
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest." 

THOMAS A KEMPIS. 

THE LOVE OF GOD. 
There is nothing small or mean to the Deity's eye. All His 
children are the objects of His care, all are alike proofs of His 
wisdom, all alike objects of His favour. 

WILLIAM PALEY, D.D. 

LOVE FOLLOWS EVERY TEAR. 
In the truly Christian soul, though weeping endure for a 
night, joy cometh in the morning." A sweet smile of hope and 
love follows every tear, and tribulation itself is turned into the 
chief of blessings. 

JULIUS CHARLES HARE. 



HONOUR GOD IN ALL THOU HAST TO BEAR. 
The devil is alwaies ready for to set forth his plough, to 
devyse as many wayes as he can to deface and obscure God's 



CONSOLATION. 295 

glory. I wold al men wold loke to their duty as God hath 
called them, and honour God in al that God Hymself hath ap- 
poynted them to beare. 

BISHOP LATIMER. 



GOD'S DAILY CARE OF US. 

*'Be not thoughtful, theerfoor, for to-morrow. Everi dai hath 
inough adoo \^dth her own troble. And if God doth clooth the 
gras of the ground, that this dai is, and to-morrow is cast into 
the furneis, how much moor, ye smal-faithed men, will He cloth 
and take care of you ! " — Matt. vi. 30, 34. 

TRANSLATION BY SIR JOHN CHEKE. 



EACH FOUNT OF MARAH HATH A LEAF. 

Thus ever on the steps of grief 

Are sown the precious seeds of joy ; 

Each fount of Marah hath a leaf, 

Whose healing balm we may employ. 

Then, 'mid life's fitful fleeting day. 
Look up — the sky is bright above ! 

Kind voices cheer thee on thy way ! 
Faint spirit ! trust the God of love ! 

ABBY D. WOODBRIDGE. 



THOU ART NEAR. 

O Lord Divine ! that stooped to share 
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear ; 

On Thee we cast each earth-born care, 
We smile at pain while Thou art near. 

Though long the Vv^eary way we tread, 
And sorrow crown each lingering year ; 

No path we shun, no darkness dread, 

Our hearts still whisperings Thou art near ! 



296 



GONE BEFORE. 



When drooping pleasure turns to grief, 
And trembling faith is changed to fear, 

The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf, 
Shall softly tell us, Thou art near ! 

HOLMES. 

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN, FOR THEY 
SHALL BE COMFORTED. 

If one would know the blessedness of mourning for the sake of 
being comforted, one must think what God's comfort means. 
Ah ! how different a thing that is, to what ours often is ! God's 
comfort is no mere soothing, no temporary opiate to lull our 
griefs to sleep, only to break forth anew until time shall heal 
them. God's comfort means, what the word itself holds indeed 
— strengthening. Not always the removal of the pain, but the 
nerving us to bear it. Not something in place of that whose 
loss we mourn, brft acquiescence in the loss, and a blessed faith 
about it. Not the taking from our shoulders the cross that galls 
them, but the making us love it, and glory in it, so that we heed 
not the galling. Not lifting us over the difficult and stony and 
precipitous places, but nerving us to walk them Vvdth unflinching 
foot and brave heart. And if we be not natively strong enough 
to walk this path alone and unaided (and who will make that 
vain boast ?), surely it is a blessed thing sometimes to have to cry 
out for God's comforting help, that we may learn how blessed it 
is to mourn. 

REV. GEORGE W. COXDER. 

DISCIPLINE A BLESSING. 

If we grow fond of our gifts, fancy that they belong to us, and 
are perpetually to remain with us ; if we lean upon them, and 
expect to be considered for them, we shall sink into all the bitter- 
ness of grief as soon as all these false and transitory benefits pass 
away, as soon as our vain and childish minds, unfraught with 
solid pleasures, become destitute even of those which are ima- 
ginary. But if we do not suffer ourselves to be transported with 
prosperity, neither shall we be reduced by adversity. Our souls 
will be proof against the dangers of both these states; and having 



CONSOLATION. 



297 



explored our strength, we shall be sure of it, for in the midst of 
fehcity we shall have tried how we can bear misfortune. 

LORD EOLIXGBROKE. 



GOD'S IDEA OF YOUR LIFE IS THAT IT SHOULD 
BE A LIFE OF PLEASANTNESS, BEAUTY, 
AND JOY. 

Realize this great truth — that God's idea of your life is that it 
should be a life of pleasantness, beauty, and joy — that you are 
not called upon to go through the world with broken hearts and 
streaming eyes, lacerating the flesh, pining and fasting, shutting 
yourselves up in solitude in monasteries or in convents, groaning 
in spirit, seeing nothing to laugh at and nothing to elate. It is 
His idea that while there is that m you which is solid and holy, 
there should also be that which is beautiful and graceful, and 
that you should feel this life to be a blessed and joyous thing, 
a perpetual solace and song. And though you \vill of necessity 
have your afflictions and trials, and a variety of things to bring a 
cloud over the mind, yet, if the heart be in good health and the 
soul in a right condition, you can bear up against them, ay, and 
improve them, and cause them to issue in blessings, so long as 
" the iron " has not "entered the soul," and the soul itself is not 
wounded by sin. Now do think of this ; believe that God 
means your life to be a joyous and blessed thing, and that reli- 
gion has come down from the throne of God to take you by the 
hand, even as a little child, and to lead you into the paths of 
pleasantness and peace ; that you should be always thus near to 
God ; and instead of laying it do^Yn as a law that you must of 
necessity, till you are twenty or five-and-twenty, serv^e the flesh, 
and then be converted from the world to God, believe God's idea 
to be that He should take you by the hand, and that you should 
love to walk with Him from the first, and should take care that 
the devil never converts you from Him. Open your hearts to 
these cheerful and happy views of your heavenly and lo^dng 
Father. Nothing ynll promote goodness, nothing will give elas- 
ticity to the religious feelings, so much as a consciousness that 
God in heaven is delighted vdth your success, and wishes that 



298 



GONE BEFORE. 



you may come and find happiness in His bosom and in His 
friendship. Ay, believe it and depend upon it that far more 
than half — nine-tenths of the tenible evils and the bitternesses 
that are distilling their poison upon the hearts and homes of men 
would be done away with. And I beg of you to remember that the 
sooner you begin to find out the invariable connection between 
causes and results, and advance in harmony with the inherent 
principles of your o\^m nature, and with God's gracious dispensa- 
tion in the gospel, the more readily may you escape the rocks 
and whirlpools which infest the sea of life, and glide over it in 
calmness and serenity. 

REV. T. BINNEY. 



''GOD IS LOVE." 

We cannot always trace the way 

^Yhen Thou, our gracious Lord, dost move ; 

But we can always surely say 

That Thou art love ! 

When fear its gloomy cloud would fling 
O'er earth, our souls to heaven above 
As to their sanctuary spring. 

For Thou art love ! 

When myster}" shrouds our darkened path, 
We'll check our dread, our doubts reprove ; 
In this our soul sweet comfort hath, 

That Thou art love ! 

Yes ! Thou art love, — a truth like this 
Can Qyery gloomy thought remove, 
And turn all tears, all woes to bliss, — 
Our God is love ! 

DR. PARKER. 

HOPE. 

The darkest hour is that before the dawn ; when things are at 
the worst they mend ; the longest road has a turning — so hope 
bravely speaks to all. And some there are whom no misfortunes 
seem able to overwhelm ; blest with a happy, hopeful tempera- 



CONSOLATION. 



299 



ment, they ride the waves of adverse fortune Hke a sea-buoy, 
which, though submerged one moment, is up the next, mounted 
on the back of the billow that broke over it. No doubt a large 
proportion of our hopes suffer the fate of these billows, so soon 
as, rolling landward, they meet the shore, and breaking are 
dashed into froth and foam. But thanks be to God, that never 
hinders us from forming new hopes as yonder sea new waves, 
that, rising from its bosom, succeed each other so rapidly that 
one is no sooner broken than another comes rolling joyously m. 

REV. THOMAS GUTHRIE, D.D. 



CHRIST OUR REFUGE. 

Oh, what should we do without this everlasting source of com- 
fort in Christ ! — this powerful refuge under all distresses. How 
many sore calamities do we fall into, out of which no human 
power or wisdom can deliver us, nor show us the way out of I 
And how must this perplex a man, unless there were a Being 
above, kind and able, to have recourse to ! Hope is the food 
and sustenance of the mind, and men will live a great while 
upon it, and all the while much easier, though in misery ; whereas 
the same afflictions would, without hope, oppress them quite, 
and drive them to despair and madness ; and this must often be 
the case were not the world, and men, and their affairs all in the 
hands of God, and in His government, who can do everything 
beyond what we are able to ask or think. And who would 
part with such a sure foundation of trust, and hope, and con- 
fidence, that is not weary of his life ? Who would let go this 
Rock of Ages for anything else he can lay hold on in this world ? 
Oh, may we never be forsaken by Him ! yea, rather, may we 
never first forsake Him ! All the stability of human things is the 
stability of v^dnd and water, changing their face, shifting their 
places every moment ; God alone abideth for ever, God alone 
is worthy of our trust, and will never deceive it. It is He alone 
who can extricate us out of all our difficulties, wipe away all 
tears and sorrows from our hearts, deliver us from our enemies, 
save us by few as well as many, give us no more occasions of 
complaint and lamentation, and turn even this to our advantage, 
give us the spirit of unity and love of wisdom to direct us, and 




GONE BEFORE. 



to improve us under all the dispensations of His providence. 
N *^Is any rock li^e our God? Who is so great a God as our 
God ? Be Thou exalted, Lord, in Thine o^vn strength, so will 
we sing and praise Thy power." 

BISHOP FLEETWOOD, 



SORROW NOT. 

Although God has not seen fit to reveal to us all the mutual 
relations of the future state, yet some of the words that He has 
inspired are radiant with glory. Does He see us prostrate 
beside some tomb? Sorrow not," he says, "like those who 
have no hope . I will bring them back ; when I return, they 
shall be with me. At that solemn hour you living ones shall not 
prevent them that are asleep. In a moment, at the voice of the 
archangel, your beloved ones will rise again. You will come 
together to meet Me. Comfort ye one another with these 
words ; do not be comforted like those who have no hope ! 
Have you listened attentively to these sweet and soothing words ? 
have you gathered this promise to your hearts — fully appreciated 
its considerate tenderness ? Oh, be sure He who Himself thus 
loves, will never break our hearts ! Sadness ! yes, that is 
natural ; but let our sadness be fraught with confidence ; 
Jesus will bring back our lost ones with Him. A long period of 
waiting would distress. The living shall not prevent them that 
sleep. But where ? How ? Be not afraid ; the shout of 
triumph sounds from one end of heaven to the other ; and we 
shall be all assembled — all together with Jesus. Together ! " 
exclaims St. Paul, " risen together — together seated in heavenly 
places ! 

MADAME DE GASPARIN. 



DAWN OUT OF DARKNESS BREAKS. 
From the dark earth, flowers ; 
From the black cloud, showers ; 
But the zephyr turns to the wintry blast, 
Stealthily stealing past. 



CONSOLATION. 



301 



No joy new joy awakes, 
DawTi out of darkness breaks, ^ 
While in the sunset's gorgeous gathering light, 
Only yields us — night ! 

The storms that fiercely rage 
Halycon calms presage ; 
But in the heart of heaven's deepest blue, 
Tempests their strength renew. 

Be this then thy relief, 
Think — though an Alp of grief 
Across thy life its forward shadow throws, — 
Beyond the halo glows. 

Think— how through all thy days 
God in mysterious ways. 

From out life's lees the wine of joy has pressed, 
And trust Him for the rest. 

WILLIAM SAWYER. 



ALL ENDS IN QUIET REST; 

No note of sorrow but shall melt 
In sweetest chord ungues sed ; 

No labour all too pressing felt. 
But ends in quiet rest. 

No sigh but from the harps above 
Soft echoing tones shall win ; 

No heart-wound but the Lord of love 
Shall pour His comfort in. 

No withered hope, while loving best 

Thy Father's chosen way ; 
No anxious care, for He will bear 

Thy burdens every day. 

Thy claim to rest on Jesus' breast, 

All weariness shall be. 
And pain, thy portal to His heart 

Of boundless sympathy. 



302 



GONE BEFORE. 



No conflict but the King's own hand 

Shall end the glorious strife 
No death but leads thee to the land 

Of everlasting life. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 

GOD'S WAYS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT. 
Beloved, it is well ! God's ways are always right ; 
And perfect love is o'er them all, though far above our sight. 
Beloved, it is well ! though deep and sore the smart, 
The hand that wounds knows how to bind, and heal the broken 
heart. 

Beloved, it is well ! though sorrow clouds our way, 

'Twill only make the joy more dear that ushers m the day. 

Beloved, it is well ! the path that Jesus trod, 
Though rough and strait, and dark it be, leads home to heaven 
and God. 

Fro77i Hym?ts selected by Rev, y. C. Ryle. 



THE SABBATH OF ETERNITY. 

A FEW more rolling suns — a few more swings of Time's pen- 
dulum, and the world's curfew-bell will toll, announcing the 
Sabbath of eternity has come and that thy sorrows are at an end. 

REV. JOHN CUMMENG, D.D. 

Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away, 
and be at rest." — Psa. Iv. 6. 

There remaineth a rest to the people of God ; let us labour 
therefore to enter into that rest." — Heb. iv. 9, ii. 



THE PROSPECT OF HEAVEN AN ANTIDOTE TO 
FEAR. 

It is appointed unto men once to die ; and doubtless this is 
our destiny. It is not likely that we shall be translated as were 



CONSOLATION. 



303 



Enocli and Elijah. We do not expect the coming of Christ 
before the sand of our glass has run out, and we know of no 
existing circumstances, or probable event, by which we may gain 
exemption from death. Seeing, then, that death is our destiny, 
it behoves us carefully and steadily to look at it as something 
before us. The places which know us now will cease to know 
us. From our homes, from the scenes of our occasional resort, 
from the place of public worship, we shall one day go out never 
to return. The best antidote to the fear and pang of dying is 
the sight of heaven opened, and the assurance that when we 
leave this world we shall go in through the pearly gates into the 
celestial city. 

REV. SAMUEL MARTIN. 



FROM GOD IS ALL THAT SOOTHES THE LIFE 
OF MAX. 

Thou art the source and centre of all minds, 
Their only point of rest, eternal Word ! 
From Thee is all that soothes the life of man, 
His high endeavour and his glad success, 
His strength to suffer and his will to sen^e. 
But oh ! Thou bounteous Giver of all good, 
Thou art of all Thy gifts Thyself the crown ! 
Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor ; 
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away. 

COWPER. 



WE SEE IN ALL THE FINGER OF GOD. 
But while the Lord giveth He also taketh away. Herein is 
another aspect of the divine government. Our heaviest losses 
and our most bitter bereavements are not the results of accident. 
It is not alone to the insidious disease we are to trace the hand 
of death which tore from the child the parent, or from the parent 
the child ; nor are w^e to ascribe alone the blighted hope, the 
broken heart, and the deep mourning which comes to us so often 
— we are not to ascribe these things to outward causes or to mere 



804 



GONE BEFORE. 



secondary laws ; but we are to see in each and all " the finger of 
God." Whatever the means or the agency employed, intelligent 
design may be discovered in every particular. 

REV. W. D. HORWOOD. 



GOD ORDERS ALL THINGS. 

How magnificent is this idea of God's government ! — that He 
inspects the whole and every part of His universe every moment, 
and orders it according to the counsels of His infinite goodness 
and wisdom by His omnipotent w^ill ; whose thought is power ; 
and His acts ten thousand times quicker than the light, uncon- 
fused in a multiplicity exceeding number, and unwearied through 
eternity ! 

DR. OGDEN. 



HOW TO BEAR THY CROSS. 

How shalt thou bear the cross that now 

So dread a weight appears? 
Keep quietly to God, and think 

Upon the eternal years. 

Austerity is little help, 

Although it somewhat cheers ; 
Thine oil of gladness is the thought 

Of the eternal years. 

Set hours and written rules are good, 
Long prayers can lay our fears ; 

But it is better calm for thee 
To count the eternal years. 

Oh ! many things are good for souls, 
In proper times and spheres ; 

Thy present good is in thy thought 
Of the eternal years. 



CONSOLATION. 



305 



Thy self-upbraiding is a snare, 

Though meekness it appears ; 
More humbling is it far for thee 

To face the eternal years. 

Brave quiet is the thing for thee, 

Chiding thy scrupulous fears ; 
Learn to be real from the thought 

Of the eternal years. 
Bear gently, suffer like a child, 

Nor be ashamed of tears ; 
Kiss the sweet cross, and in thy heart 

Sing of th' eternal years. 
Thy cross is quite enough for thee, 

Though little it appears ; 
For there is hid in it the weight 

Of the eternal years. 
Death will have rainbows round it, seen 

Through calm contrition's tears, 
If tranquil Hope but trims her lamp 

At the eternal years. 

REV. F. V/. FABER. 



EVERY SECRET PRAYER CAN BE HEARD IN 
HEAVEN. 

There is something in the thought of being surrounded, even 
upon earth, by the Majesty on high, that gives a peculiar elevation 
and serenity of soul. 

To be assured in the loneliest hour of unknown or neglected 
sorrow that every sigh ascends to the Eternal Throne, and every 
secret prayer can be heard in heaven — to feel that, in every act 
of conscious rectitude, the heart can appeal, amidst all the con- 
tradiction of sinners, to One who seeth not as man seeth — pro- 
duces a peace which the world can never give. Feeling itself, 
like Enoch, walking with God, the heart perceives a spirituality 
and purity in every joy, a mercy and a balm in every sorrow, and 
exalted above the intrusions of an intermeddling world, has its 

conversation in heaven." 

REV. MATHEW. 

X 



306 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE VOICE OF MERCY. 

The stormy winds raved loud, and vexed 
The chafing waters' troubled breast — 

When lo ! a voice of mercy spake, 
And soothed the ruffled waves to rest. 

Saviour, when thy poor wayward child 
Droops faithlessly, 'midst doubt or ill. 

Thy voice shall calm the inward strife, 
And bid her aching heart be still. 

LADY FLORA HASTINGS. 



PASS ALONG THE NARROW PATH OF GOD. 

Raise that face of sorrow from the sod ; 

Casting off thy sins and thy disgraces, 
Issuing from utter tribulations, 

Struggling from the serpent's fierce embraces, 
Pass along the narrow path of God. 

ROBERT BUCHANAN. 



I WAIT THE LIGHT ABOVE. 

My God, the covenant of Thy love abides for ever sure ; 
And in its matchless grace I feel my happiness secure. 

Since Thou, the everlasting God, my Father art become, 
Jesus my Guardian and my Friend, and heaven my final home, 

I welcome all thy sovereign will, for all that will is love ; 
And when I know not what Thou dost, I wait the light above. 

Thy covenant, in the darkest gloom, shall heavenly rays 
impart. 

Which, when mine eyelids close in death, shall warm my chilling 
heart. 

DR. DODDRIDGE. 



CONSOLATION. 



307 



THE BODY SHALL SHARE IN THE FULNESS OF 
SALVATION. 

Even the body shall share in the fulness of salvation. It 
seems as if this could not be. But it dies that it may be 
quickened anew into immortality ; and the process of dissolution 
through which it passes is but a preparation for glory. True, the 
brain becomes inactive, the limbs fail from their accustomed 
activity, the eyes are closed and dark, the heart ceases to beat, 
and the flesh decayeth and drieth up in dust, and all appearances 
are against the revival and reconstruction of the dead and dis- 
organized frame. But appearances do not daunt us in the 
presence of almighty power and divine promises. We ask with 
the patriarch, If a man die, shall he live again V And the 
patriarch himself will give the answer, "I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the 
earth. And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet 
in my flesh shall I see God, whom I shall see for myself, and 
mine eyes shall behold, and not another, though my veins be 
consumed within me." We receive the answer of the prophet, 

Thy dead men shall live ; together with my dead body shall 
they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust ; for thy dew 
is as the dew of herbs, and the earth shall cast out the dead." 
We receive the answer of the apostle, He shall change our 
vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body, 
according to the working whereby He is able to subdue all 
things unto Himself. " Here is the climax ; higher than this, 
aspiration cannot soar, and thought cannot climb— //'i^ u7ito 
His glorious body.'''' What its fashion and image shall be, we 
know not. None of living men have beheld the model to which 
it is to be made like ; we can in this, as in many other things 
but dimly revealed, only speak in general terms, and say of the 
resurrection body that it shall be holy , and perfect, vigorous and 
spiritual— nobler than the body of the first man, since it shall be 
raised immortal and incorruptible — like unto the " glorious 
body " of the second man, the Lord in heaven. And when it 
shall be transformed into such perfection that it shall be a fit 
organ for the glorified spirit, and they shall be united together 
once more in the resurrection at the last day, grace wiU have 
crowned its work, and the salvation will be complete. 

REV. THOMAS HILL» 



GONE BEFORE. 



THERE IS NO DEATH ! 

There is no death ! The stars go down 
To rise upon some fairer shore ; 

And bright in heaven's jewelled cro%m 
They shine for evermore. 

There is no death ! The dust we tread 
Shall change beneath the summer shower 

To golden grain of mellow fruit, 
Or rainbow-tinted flower. 

The granite rocks disorganize 

To feed the hungry moss they bear ; 

The forest leaves drink daily life 
From out the viewless air. 

There is no death ! The leaves may fall, 
The flowers may fade and pass away •. 

They only wait through wintry hour? 
The coming of the INIay. 

There is no death ! An angel form 
^Yalks o'er the earth with silent tread ; 

He bears our best loved things away, 
And then we call them "dead." 

He leaves our hearts all desolate, 

He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers ; 

Transplanted into bliss, they now 
Adorn immortal bowers. 

The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones 
Made glad those scenes of joy and strife^ 

Sings now an everlasting song 
Amid the tree of life. 

And where he sees a smile too bright, 
Or heart too pure for taint and vice, 

He bears it to that world of light. 
To dwell in paradise. 



CONSOLATION. 



309 



Bom unto that undying life, 

They leave us but to come again ; 
With joy we welcome them — the same, 

Except in sin and pain. 

And ever near us, though unseen. 

The dear immortal spirits tread ; 
For all the boundless universe 

Is life — there are no dead. 

LORD LYTTON. 



Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will I deliver 
him ; I will set him on high, because he hath known My name ; 
he shall call upon Me, and I will answer him : I will be with 
him in trouble ; I will deliver him and honour him : with long 
life will I satisfy him, and show him My salvation. — PsA. xci. 
14—16. 



GOD'S CHOSEN CANNOT DIE. 

It is not death to die ; 

To leave this weary road. 
And 'midst the brotherhood on high 

To be at home with God. 

It is not death to close 

The eye long dimmed by tears, 
And wake in glorious repose 

To spend eternal years. 

It is not death to bear 

The wrench that sets us free 

From dungeon chain, to breathe the air 
Of boundless liberty. 

It is not death to fling 

Aside this sinful dust. 
And rise on strong exulting wing 

To live among the just. 



310 



GONE BEFORE. 



Jesus, Thou Prince of life, 

Thy chosen cannot die ; 
Like Thee, they conquer in the strife 

To reign with Thee on high. 

DR. MALAN, translated by G. w. BETHUNE. 



NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE. 

How mournful seems, in broken dreams, 

The memory of the day 
When icy death hath sealed the breath 

Of some dear form of clay ! 

When pale, unmoved, the face we loved, 

The face we thought so fair. 
And the hand lies cold, whose fervent hold 

Once charmed away despair. 

Oh ! what could heal the grief we feel 

For hopes that come no more, 
Had we ne'er heard the soothing words, 

" Not lost, but gone before ?" 
Oh ! sadly, yet with vain regret 

The widowed heart must yearn ; 
And mothers weep their babes asleep 

In the sunlight's vain return. 

The brother's heart shall rue to part 

From the one through childhood known ; 

And the orphan's tears lament for years 
A friend and father gone. 

For death and life, with ceaseless strife. 
Beat wild on this world's shore. 

And all our calm is in that balm, — 
" Not lost, but gone before." 

O world wherein nor death nor sin 

Nor weary warfare dwells. 
Their blessed home we parted from 

With sobs and sad farewells. 



CONSOLATION. 



311 



Where eyes awake for whose dear sake 

Our own with tears grow dim, 
And faint accords of dying words 

Are changed for heaven's sweet hymn. 

Oh ! there at last, life's trials past, 

We'll meet our loved once more. 
Whose feet have trod the path to God — ■ 

*'Not lost, but gone before." 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 



"PEACE, BE STILL!" 

I TURNED aside 
With aching head, and heart most sorely bowed ? 
Around me cares and griefs in crushing crowd, 

While inly rose the sense, in swelling tide, 
Of weakness, insufficiency, and sin, 

And fear and gloom and doubt in mighty flood rolled in ! 

That rushing flood I had no strength to meet, 
Nor power to flee : my present, future, past, 
Myself, my sorrow, and my sin I cast. 

In utter helplessness, at Jesu's feet : 
Then bent me to the storm, if such His will. 
He saw the winds and waves, and whispered, Peace, be 
still!" 

And there was calm ! O Saviour, I have proved 
That Thou to help and save art really near. 
How else this quiet rest from grief, and fear, 

And all distress ? The cross is not removed ; 
I must go forth to bear it as before. 
But, leaning on Thine arm, I dread its weight no more. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



V 



GONE BEFORE. 



MAY SOME COMFORT REACH THY SOUL. 

So may some comfort reach thy soul wayfaring, 

While the days run, and the swift glories shine, 
And something God-like shall that soul grow, sharing 
The attitude divine. 

Silent, supreme, sad, wondering, quiescent, 

Seeking to fathom with the spirit-sight 
The problem of the Shadow of the Present, 
Born of eternal Light. 

ROBERT BUCHANAN. 



GOD O'ER ALL FOR EVER REIGNS ! 

God liveth ever ! 
Wherefore, soul, despair thou never ! 
He who can earth and heaven control, 

Who spreads the clouds o'er sea and land, 
Whose presence fills the mighty whole, 
In each true heart is close at hand. 
Love Him, He will surely send 
Help and joy that never end. 
Soul, remember in thy pains, 
God o'er all for ever reigns ! 

God liveth ever ! 
Wherefore, soul, despair thou never ! 
Scarce canst thou bear thy cross ? Then fly 

To Him where rest is only sweet. 
Thy God is great, His mercy nigh, 
His strength upholds the tottering feet. 
Trust Him, for His grace is sure. 
Ever doth His truth endure. 
Soul, forget not in thy pains, 
God o'er all for ever reigns ! 



CONSOLATION. 



313 



God liveth ever ! 
Wherefore, soul, despair thou never ! 
What though thou tread with bleeding feet 

A thorny path of grief and gloom ? 
Thy God will choose the way most meet 
To lead thee heavenward, lead thee home. 
For this life's long night of sadness. 
He will give thee peace and gladness ! 
Soul, forget not in thy pains, 
God o'er all for ever reigns ! 

ZEHX. 



THE TRUEST WISDOM. 
The world's a room of sickness, where each heart 

Knows its own anguish and unrest ; 
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art, 

Is this who skills of comfort best ; 
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone 
Enfeebled spirits own, 
And love to raise the languid eye 
When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by. 

REV. JOHN KEBLE. 



USE THE BITTER AND THE SWEET. 

If, within thy narrow border, 

Many bitter herbs are set. 
Duly trained and kept m order, 

They may recompense thee yet : 
Use the bitter and the sweet. 
As thy med'cine and thy meat. 

They who in appointed duty 

Live most secretly with God 
Shall come forth in fullest beauty, 

Blossoming like Aaron's rod. 
Plants can flourish in the dark 
If within the golden ark. 

LADY TEIGNMOUTK. 



GONE BEFORE. 



WHY THUS COMPLAIN? 

O TROUBLED soul, why thus complain ? 
Why thus great Providence arraign ? 
Poor feeble heart ! thy troubles still, 
And hide thyself in God's great will ! 

'Tis true, He now thy strength doth trv-. 
Like birds, that teach their young to fly ; 
But when thou sinkest He will bring 
Beneath thy fall His own great wing. 

THOS. C. UPHAM. 



' When thou hast thanked thy God for every blessing sent, 
What time will then remain for murmurs or lament ? " 

ARCHBISHOP TREN'CH. 



ALL ARE NOT TAKEN. 

All are not taken ; there are left behind 

Living beloveds, tender looks to bring 

And make the daylight still a happy thing. 

And tender voices to make soft the wind : 

But if it were not so — if I could find 

No love in all the world for comforting, 

Nor any path but hollowly did ring 

Where *'dust to dust " the love from life disjoined. 

And if, before those sepulchres unmoving 

I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb 

Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth) 

Crying, Where are ye, O my loved and loving? " 

I know a voice would sound, Daughter, I a?n. 

Can I suffice for heaven and not for earth ? " 



MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



CONSOLATION. 



315 



CHRIST'S OWN BEQUEST. 

Peace, peace ! 

Wrought by the Spirit of might. 
In thy deepest sorrow and sorest strife, 
In the changes and chances of mortal life, 
It is thine, beloved ! Christ^s own bequest, 
\Yhich vainly the tempter shall strive to wrest ; 

It is now thy right. 

Peace, peace ! 

Look for its bright increase ; 
Deepening, widening, year by year. 
Like a sunlit river, strong, calm, and clear ; 
Lean on His love through this earthly vale. 
For His word and His work shall never fail, 

And " He is our peace." 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



Not all the props you can employ can raise up the battered 
downtrodden flower so well as the genial sunshine. So this 
drooping flower turns his leaves to the great Sun of righteous- 
ness. 

REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D. 



STAND FAST IN SUFFERING. 

Despair not in the vale of woe. 
Where many joys from suffering flow. 
Oft breathes simoom, and close behind 
A breath of God doth softly blow. 
Clouds threaten — but a ray of light, 
And not of lightning, falls below. 
How many winters o'er thy head 
Have past I yet bald it does not show. 
Thy branches are not bare, and yet 
What storms have shook them to and fro I 



GONE BEFORE. 



To thee has time brought many joys, 
If many it has bid to go ; 
And seasoned has with bitterness 
Thy cup, that flat it should not grow. 
Trust in that veiled hand, which leads 
None by the path that he would go ; 
And always be for change prepared, 
For the world's law is ebb and flow. 
Stand fast in suffering, until He 
Who called it shall dismiss also ; 
And from that Lord all good expect, 
Who many mercies strews below ; 
Who in life's narrow gardenstrip 
Has bid dehghts unnumbered blow. 

ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. 

The bad grows better when we well sustain. 

DRYDEN. 

O HOLY HOPE ! 

They are all gone into the world of light, 

And I alone sit lingering here ; 
Their very memory is fair and bright, 

And my sad thoughts doth clear. 

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast 

Like stars upon some gloomy grove, 
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest 

After the sun's remove. 

I see them walking in an air of glory, 
Whose life doth trample on my days — 

My days, which are at best but dull and hoary. 
Mere glimmering and decays. 

O holy hope ! and high humility — 

High as the heavens above ! 
These are your walks, and you have sho\^'ed them me 

To kindle my cold love. 



CONSOLATION. 



317 



If a star were confined into a tomb, 

Her captive flames must needs burn there ; 

But when the hand that locked her up gives room, 
She'll shine through all the sphere. 

O Father of eternal life, and all 

Created glories under Thee ! 
Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall 

Into true liberty. 

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill 

My perspective still as they pass ; 
Or else remove me hence unto that hill 

Where I shall need no glass. 

REV. HENRY VAUGHAN. 

SEEK IMMORTALITY. 

Knowing as you do that you have '*here no continuing city," 
will ye not at once engage yourselves in ' * seeking one to come " ? 
Will ye be content to abide, unthinking and unprepared, in the 
frail tabernacle which in an instant may dissolve, and neglect to 
secure, while the opportunity is all your own, ' ' a building of 
God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens ? " 
Will ye, whose days are but as a span long, and whose life itself 
is but a vapour that appeareth for a little time and then 
vanisheth away," — will ye not be made partakers and inheritors 
of a kingdom that cannot be moved ? Earth ! wilt thou return 
to earth ? or shall the imfettered spirit, when released by death 
ascend to Him who gave it? Thing of dust, and yet instinct 
^^-ith noble faculties and expansive capacities and aspiring hopes 
and affections, which not only run parallel with life, but are 
capable of surviving death ! wilt thou lie down in the dark 
grave without a ray of hope in that dreary resting-place, or wilt 
thou pass from this world, bequeathing to those who shall sur^dve 
the invaluable legacy of thy expiring testimony, * ' I know that my 
Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon 
the earth ; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, 
yet in my flesh shall I see God " ? Immortal child of clay ! wilt 
thou cleave to the sordid clod, or claim sublimest immortality? 
Thou whom God calls, wilt thou not hearken ? Thou whom 



318 



GONE BEFORE. 



Christ invites, wilt thou not approach? Thou in whom, 
though a compound of frail flesh, the Holy Spirit deigns 
to strive, wilt thou not fear to exhaust the longsuftering and 
loving kindness of Him who said, ^' My spirit shall not always 
strive with men" ? If, indeed, any had a "continuing city cf 
their own — a refuge which no adverse power could penetrate — a 
lurking-place which even the eye of God could not explore, so 
remote that His presence could not reach it, so inaccessible that 
His Spirit could not enter and per^-ade it — we might leave such 
unadmonished and unimplored. 

CAXOX DALE. 

XOTHIXG CAX SEPARATE ME FROM THE LOVE 
OF GOD. 

Doubt is weakness and not strength, discouragement and not 
stimulus. It is when I know that God is on my side that I do 
not fear what man can do unto me. It is when I know in whom 
I have believed that I am ready to lay do\vii my life for His 
sake. All the strength of my obedience and fidelity and self- 
sacrifice is strength which comes of the joy of the Lord — the joy 
of knowing that God loves me though I rebel — the joy of know- 
ing that He will carry on the good work in me that He has 
begun— the joy of knowing that nothing can separate me from 
the love of God. This is a joy that ner\'es the arm \dth strength 
in the day of battle, that fills the soul %\dth patience in the time 
of sickness, and that gives its gleam of triumph to the dying 
eye. 

REV. HENRY ALLON. 

DIVINE GRACE. 

Oh the blessed hope and joyful expectation that attends a 
spiritual mind, especially when it is enlivened and assisted by the 
powerful influence of di^ine grace ! For without that even good 
men may be liable to some dejections and fears as to another 
world, from the vastness of the change, the sense of their failings, 
the weakness of their minds, and mistmst of their own fitness for 
heaven ; but so great is the goodness and mercy of God towards 
them that sincerely love and fear Him, that He always makes 



CONSOLATION. 



319 



their passage safe, though it be not so triumphant. And although 
the valley of the shadow of death may seem gloomy and uncom- 
fortable at a distance, yet when God is pleased to conduct His 
servants through it, He makes it a happy passage into a state of 
glorious immortality and everlasting life and peace. 

BISHOP STILLINGFLEET. 

THE EYE OF FAITH. 

The humble Christian, on his dying bed, sensible of a 
thousand failings and imperfections, still looks with the eye of 
faith on his Redeemer ; and his soul, like the flight of an eagle 
towards the heavens, soars to the region of everlasting happi- 
ness. 

EDWARD JESSE. 

GOOD SHALL FALL AT LAST TO ALL. 

Oh! yet we trust that, somehow, good 

Will be the final goal of all, 

To pangs of nature, sins of will. 
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; 

That nothing walks with aimless feet ; 

That not one life shall be destroyed, 

Or cast as rubbish to the vo^d, 
When God hath made the pile complete. 

That not a worm is cloven in vain ; 

That not a moth with vain desire 

Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire. 
Or but subserves another's gain. 

Behold ! we know not anything ; 

I can but trust that good shall fall, 

At last, far off, at last, to all, 
And every winter change to spring. 

So runs my dream — but what am I ? 

An infant crying in the night ; 

An infant crying for the light, 
And with no language but a cry. 

TENNYSON. 



320 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE EYE OF FAITH THAT SEES THE PROMISED 
DAY. 

Oh, my friend, 

That thy faith were as mine ! — that thou couldst see 
Death still producing life, and evil still 
Working its own destmction ; couldst behold 
The strifes and troubles of this troubled world 
With the strong eye that sees the promised day 
Dawn through this night of tempest ! All things then 
Would minister to joy ; then should thine heart 
Be healed and harmonized, and thou wouldst feel 
God always, everywhere, and all in all. 

SOUTHEY. 



NO MORE TEARS. 

Faith draws the distant vision nigh, 

Where basks her child in thornless bowers ; 

While cherub hands suppress each sigh, 
And wreath her heart with fadeless flowers. 

In that bright world no tears are seen, 

For God hath wiped all tea^s away ; 
Earth's last deep groan of anguish keen 

Ne'er mingles with Redemption's lay. 

Washed in the Saviour's cleansing blood, 
The white-robed saints in glory stand, 

Hailing Earth's lingerers o'er the flood 
To the full bliss of Canaan's land. 

Oh, blest reunion ! No more tears 

Shall dim the sun-blaze of the soul, 
But smiles shall be the chroniclers 

Of joys that o\\ti not death's control. 

REV. \V. J. BROCK. 



CONSOLATION. 



321 



WAIT ON GOD, AND HE SHALL SHINE UPON 
THEE. 

God never shows so much of Himself as in suffering, and 
parting with anything for Him and denying ourselves of that 
which we think stands not with His will. God is no barren 
wilderness. One sweet beam of His countenance will requite 
all this. Wait then still upon God, and He shall shine upon 
thee. 

RICHARD SIBBES, D.D. 



THY HIGHER BEING LINKED WITH HERS 
AT LAST. 

To rise, and live again :" 
Brighter the rising than the sunset glow, 
Freer the gaze that mounts new spheres to know- 

Oh ! then, *'to die is gain." 

The mantling blush of even 
Sheds o'er the distant world a thousand dyes, 
The spreading cloudland bathed in glory lies 

O'er earth the smile of heaven ; 

But, when the sweet Day breaks 
No sadness enters, whispering ^'farewell" — 
No echo of the mournful tolling bell 

The secret sigh awakes : 

Both transient, both of earth ; 
And yet we catch a differing strain beneath : 
The one, despite its glories, speaks of death, 

The other of new birth. 

And thus I hail the mom ; 
And in each radiant beam of opening day 
I see the God- smile which illumed her way 

When freed and upward borne : 

And hush each throb of pain, 
Wakened by thoughts of what was once so bright — 
The beautiful, now hidden from our sight — 

'Twill *'rise and live again." 

Y 



322 



GONE BEFORE. 



Oh! then, my soul, hope on ; 
Stretch forth thy wing, renewed and purified, 
That when, across the waters that divide, 

It gladsome nears the sun, 

Freed from each transient stain. 
All earthly conflict closed, all sorrows past, 
Thy higher being, linked with hers at last. 

May '^rise and live again." 

THE AUTHOR OF ^^VASCO." 

HOPE OX, HOPE EVER. 
Hope on, hope ever ; though to-day be dark. 

The sweet sunburst may smile on thee to-morrow : 
Though thou art lonely, there's an eye will mark 

Thy loneliness, and guerdon all thy sorrow ! 
Though thou must toil 'mong cold and sordid men, 

With none to echo back thy thought, or love thee, 
Cheer up, poor heart ! thou dost not beat in vain. 

For God is over all, and heaven above thee ; 

Hope on, hope ever. 

The iron may enter in and pierce thy soul. 

But cannot kill the love within thee burning ; 
The tears of miseiy, thy bitter dole, 

Can never quench thy true heart's seraph yearning 
For better things ; nor crush thy ardour's trust 

That error from the mind shall be uprooted. 
That truths shall da^^m as flowers spring from the dust, 

And love be cherished where hate was embruted ; 

Hope on, hope ever. 

I know 'tis hard to bear the sneer and taunt. 

With the heart's honest pride at midnight wrestle ; 
To feel the killing cankerworm of want. 

While rich rogues in their stolen luxuiy nestle ; 
For I have felt it. Yet front earth's cold real 

My soul looks out on coming things, and cheerful 
The warm sunrise floods all the land ideal. 

And still it whispers to the worn and tearful, 
Hope on, hope ever. 



CONSOLATION. 



323 



Hope on, hope ever ; after darkest night 

Comes, full of loving life, the laughing morn — 

Hope on, hope ever ; spring-tide, flushed with light, 
Aye crowns old winter with her rich adorning. 

GERALD MASSEY. 



BE NOT CAST DOWN. 

Where are the swallows fled ? 

Frozen and dead, 
Perchance upon some bleak and stormy shore. 
O doubting heart ! 
Far over purple seas. 
They wait in sunny ease 
The balmy southern breeze, 
To bring them to their northern home once more. 

Why must the flowers die ? 

Prison'd they he 
In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. 
O doubting heart ! 
They only sleep below 
The soft white ermine snow 
While winter winds shall blow. 
To breathe and smile upon you soon again. 

The sun has hid its rays 
These many days ; 
Will dreary hours never leave the earth ? 
O doubting heart ! 
The stormy clouds on high 
Veil the same sunny sky 
That soon — for spring is nigh — . 
Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. 

Fair hope is dead, and light 

Is quenched in night ; 
What sound can break the silence of despair, 

O doubting heart ? 



o24 



GONE BEFORE. 



The sky is overcast, 
Yet stars shall rise at last, 
Brighter for darkness past, 
A.nd angels' silver voices stir the air. 

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. 



HAVE FAITH. 
It is a broad river that faith will not look over ; it is a mighty 
and a broad sea that they of a lively hope cannot behold the 
farthest bank and other shore of. Look over the water ; your 
anchor is fixed within the veil ; the one end of the cable is about 
the person of Christ, and the other is entered within the veil, 
whither the forerunner is entered for you. 

SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. 



In time of danger, sickness, or temptation, faith flutters not, 
nor struggles hard to help itself, but stands still and sees the 
salvation of God." The eye is singly fixed on Jesus ; the heart 
is calmly waiting for Him, and Jesus brings relief. Faith calls, 
and Jesus answers, " Here I am to save thee." 

BISHOP BERRIDGE. 

REALMS OF GLORY LIE BEFORE THEE. 

Leave behind thy faithless sorrow 

And thine every anxious care ; 
He v/ho only knows the morrow 

Can for thee its burden bear. 

Leave behind the doubting spirit, 

And thy crushing load of sin ; 
By thy mighty Saviour's merit 

Life eternal thou shalt win. 
Leave the darkness gathering o'er thee. 

Leave the shadow-land behind ; 
Realms of glory lie before thee ; 

Enter in and welcome find. 



FIL\NCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



CONSOLATION. 



325 



LEARN TO TRUST THE SAVIOUR. 

Your heavenly Father will never suffer you to be tempted 
above that ye are able ; but with the temptation or trial He 
will make a way to escape. With the thorn He will give 
the grace. There are many things you cannot make out now ; 
they will all be cleared up hereafter. ^leanwhile learn to trust 
the Sa\dour where you cannot trace Him, and do not be weary 
at the length of the trials, the weight of the affliction, the 
lacerating of the thorn. All will finally be for your glory. 
God's time is not your time ; and how know you but that your 
patience may be working experience, and experience, hope, and 
finally, hope being exchanged for sight, you will find that all 
things have worked together for good. You will learn that God 
stayeth His rough wind in the day of His east wind ; that He 
will temper the wind to the shorn lamb ; — that His grace is 
sufficient for thee. His strength shall be made perfect in your 
weakness. 

REV. J. MORTLOCK BROWN, B.A. 



TIME LULLS TO SAD REPOSE. 

TIME ! who know' St a lenient hand to lay 
Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence, 
Lulling to sad repose the weary sense. 

The faint pang stealest unperceived aw^ay ; 
On Thee I rest my only hope at last, 
And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear 
That flow^s in vain o'er all my soul held dear, 

1 may look back on every sorrow past, 

And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile ; 
As some love-bird, at day's departing hour, 
Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower 
Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while : 
Yet ah ! how much must that poor heart endure 
^Yhich hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure ! 

WM. LISLE BOWLES. 



326 



GONE BEFORE. 



NO CLOUD ACROSS THE SUN BUT PASSES 
AT LAST. 

No — I'll trust yet — 
Some have gone mad for less ; but why should I ? 
Who live in time and not eternity. 
'Twill end, all end ; no cloud across the sun 
But passes at the last, and gives us back 
The face of God once more. 

* # # * * 

O Lord, my Lord, I thank Thee ! 

Loving and merciful and tender-hearted, 

And e'en in fiercest wrath remembering mercy. 

REV. CHARLES KINGSLEY. 



Lord, rebuke me not in Thy wrath, neither chasten me in 
Thy hot displeasure. —Psa. vi. I. 

As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten. — Rev. iii. 19. 

For Thy righteousness' sake bring my soul out of trouble. — 
Psa. cxliii. 11. 

He preserveth the souls of His saints. — Psa. xcvii. 10. 

1 KNOW, O Lord, that Thy judgments are right, and that Thou 
in faithfulness hast afflicted me. — Psa. cxix. 75. 

In a little wrath I hid My face from thee for a moment, but 
with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the 
Lord thy Redeemer." — Isa. liv. 8. 



'Tis a mercy to have that taken from us which takes us from 
God. 

JOHN VENNING. 



Man may dismiss compassion from his heart. 
But God will never. 

cowper. 



CONSOLATION. 



327 



GREAT YOUR STRENGTH IF GREAT YOUR NEED. 

Oft in sorrow, oft in woe, 
Onward, Christians, onward go ; 
Fight the fight, maintain the strife, 
Strengthened with the bread of life. 
Let your drooping hearts be glad ; 
March in heavenly armour clad ; 
Fight, nor think the battle long, 
Soon shall victory tune your song. 

Let not sorrow dim your eye, 
Soon shall every tear be dry ; 
Let not fears your course impede, 
Great your strength if great your need. 

Onward then, to glory move, 
More than conquerors ye shall prove ; 
Though opposed by many a foe, 
Christian soldiers, onward go. 

KIRKE WHITE. 



''WAIT PATIENTLY FOR HIM." 
God doth not bid thee wait 
To disappoint at last ; 
A golden promise, fair and great, 
In precept-mould is cast. 
Soon shall the morning gild 
The dark horizon-rim, 
Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled, 
*' patiently for Him.'' 

The weary waiting times 

Are but the muffled peals 
Low preluding celestial chimes, 

That hail his chariot wheels. 

Trust Him to tune thy voice 

To blend with seraphim ; 
His *' Wait" shall issue in " Rejoice ! " 

*' Wait patiently for Him." 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



328 



GONE BEFORE. 



DIRECTED OF GOD. 

Know well, my soul, God's hand controls 

Whate'er thou fearest ; 
Round Him, in calmest music, rolls 

Whate'er thou hearest. 

^Yhat to thee is shadow to Him is day, 

And the end He knoweth ; 
And not on a blind and aimless way 

The Spirit goeth. 

J. G. WHITTIER. 

Nothing can occur beyond the strength of faith to sustain, or 
transcending the resources of religion to relieve. 

REV. T. BINXEY. 

REST IS IN HEAVEN. 

IMy rest is in heaven, my rest is not here, 
Then why should I murmur when trials are near ? 
Be hushed, my dark spirit ; the worst that can come 
But shortens thy journey and hastens thee home. 

It is not for me to be seeking my bliss. 
And building my hopes in a region like this ; 
I look for a city that hands have not piled, 
I pant for a country by sin undefiled. 

The thorn and the thistle around me may grow, 
I would not lie down upon roses below ; 
I ask not a portion, I seek not a rest, 
Till I find them for ever on Jesu's kind breast. 
Afflictions may press me, they cannot destroy ; 
One glimpse of Thy love turns them all into joy ; 
And the bitterest tears, if Thou smile but on them. 
Like dew in the sunshine, grow diamond and gem. 

Let doubt then and danger my progress oppose, 
They only make heaven more sweet at the close ; 
Come joy or come sorrow, whate'er may befall, 
An hour with my God will make up for them all. 



CONSOLATION. 



329 



A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand, 

I march on in haste through an enemy's land ; 

The road may be rough, but it cannot be long, 

And I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with song. 

REV. H. F. LYTE, 



BELIEF IN GOD'S GRACE. 

O MERCIFUL One, 
^Vhen men are farthest, then Thou art most near ; 
When friends pass by, my weakness shun, 
Thy chariot I hear. 

Thy glorious face 
Is beaming towards me, and its holy light 
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place, 

And there is no more night. 

On my bended knee 
I recognise Thy purpose, clearly shown ; 
My vision thou hast dimmed, that I may see 

Thyself — Thyself alone. 

I have nought to fear ; 
This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing ; 
Beneath it I am almost sacred ; here 

Can come no evil thing. 

Oh ! I seem ^o stand 
Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, 
Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless land. 

Which eye hath never seen. 

ELIZABETH LLOYD. 



THE HAVEN IS NEARING. 

The haven is nearing — star after star is quenched in more 
glorious effulgence — every bound of these dark waves is bringing 
thee nearer the eternal shore. 

REV. J. R. MACDUFF, D.D. 



330 



GONE BEFORE. 



THERE ARE DAYS OF SUNNY REST. 
Deem not that they are blest alone 

Whose days a peaceful tenor keep : 
The anointed Son of God makes knowTi 

A blessing for the eyes that weep. 
The light of smiles shall fill again 

The lids that overflow with tears, 
And weaiy hours of woe and pain 

Are promises of happier years. 

Oh, there are days of sunny rest, 

For every dark and troubled night ; 
And grief may bide, an evening guest, 

But joy shall come with early light. 
And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier 

Dost shed the bitter drops like rain, 
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere 

\Yill give him to thy arms again. 
For God hath marked each son'owing day, 

And numbered every secret tear ; 
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 

For all His children suffer here. 

WM. CULLEN BRYANT. 



Believe me, upon the margin of celestial streams alone 
those simples grow which cure the heartache. 

LONGFELLOW. 

CALM ME, MY GOD. 
Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 

Soft resting on Thy breast ; 
Soothe me with holy h}Tim and psalm, 

And bid my spirit rest. 
Calm as the ray of sun or star 

Which storms assail in vain, 
Moving unruffled through earth's war, 

Th' eternal calm to gain. 

REV. HORATIUS BONAR. 



CONSOLATION. 



331 



GOD'S WILL, NOT OURS. 

We should do well to bear in mind that God does not always 
give the answer we want. St. Paul would have had the thorn 
depart from him. This is not done, but grace is given sufficient 
to enable him to bear up under its laceratings. Ever bear this 
in mind. . Wearied and tossed about, and troubled to death — 
praying, and seemingly getting no answer, — ever remember 
this : the Saviour's grace is sufficient for you ; sufficient to save, 
it is sufficient to keep, to sustain, to comfort, to sanctify, to 
revive you in life, and finally to bear you up in death. Sufficient 
in life, it will be sufficient in death, and then sufficient in 
eternity. 

REV. J. MORTLOCK BROWN, B.A. 

Got) tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. 

LAURENCE STERNE. 



RELIGION. 

Religion trains to endurance the imprisoned soul ; 

And teaching how with deepest gloom to cope, 

Bids patience light her lamp when sets the sun of hope. 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 

WE SHALL BLESS GOD FOR OUR AFFLICTIONS. 

I SAY to you, speaking of God's providential dealings with 
yourselves, that it is the privilege of faith to believe that God's 
way is perfect. You cannot understand the way in which God 
has dealt. If I take any fifty of His children, the way in 
which God has dealt with them from their cradles to this moment^ 
the widely different way, the different positions in society into 
which He has thrown them — the different measure of this 
world's wealth which He has given them — the varied trials 
which they have been called upon to pass through, — we cannot 
account for them ; we cannot understand why God should seem 
to let the sun shine so constantly upon one, and why He should 
so constantly cause others to walk through gloom and darkness; 



332 



GONE BEFORE. 



why some perhaps have only had their lot of happiness and 
comfort interrupted occasionally, while others perhaps have 
scarcely known for the last twenty years an unanxious day, an 
unanxious night, or an unanxious hour. And how can we 
account for this ? Faith must come in ; and you must be sure of 
this, my dear friends — the truth on which I pray you to fasten 
your faith, — that from eternity God has ever had but one design 
in His heart with regard to His own children ; that from the 
moment in which you were bom into the world God has never 
swerved from that design ; and that the object of every solemn 
dealing of God with you, the object of every tear which you have 
been called upon to shed, the obj ect of every burden which you 
have ever been allowed to bear — the object of the withering and 
the blasting of every gourd under which, in this weary world, 
you had been for a while taking shelter, has been the object of 
furthering His great and unchangeable purpose ; and that pur- 
pose is, in the magnificent words of St. Paul to the Romans, 

that you might be conformed to the image of His Son." 

Ah, my dear friends, God has made no mistake ; there is no 
want of wisdom, there is no want of love. What will be the 
rapture of God's children when they look back and see " He 
led me forth by the right way" ! Then, when we see all clearly, 
we shall all be ready to bless God — Naaman for his leprosy ; 
Bartimseus for his blindness ; Job for his afflictions ; all of us for 
the very things which were our greatest trials here. I do verily 
believe, in my heart of hearts, that when we get into God's 
presence, and when we are allowed to ask our heavenly Father 
questions, or when the light of eternity comes flooding upon the 
path by which we have been led to glory, the very darkest 
enigmas will be the themes for the loudest praises, and that the 
very things of all others for which we shall most adoringly bless 
God, and in praising Him for which we shall sweep our heavenly 
harp with a touch of the most loving and fervent intensity, will 
be those mercies which came to us in disguise, but which God 
knew to be necessaiy for us, and by means of which God pre- 
pared us and sanctified us, denying us often what we wanted, 
or giving an answer to our prayers in some other form than we 
expected, and all because He was too good to do as we do with 
our earthly children. For there is one difference: God loves His 
children too well to spoil them. He loves His children with a 



CONSOLATION. 



333 



love beside which the love of the fondest mother is coldness. It is 
eternal, unchangeable; it is love which will never let them go; 
but because it is perfect love it will be found, when we get to our 
heavenly home, it never spoilt one of His children. And why does 
He not ? The answer is, "As for God, His way is perfect." 

CANON MILLER, D.D. 

Child, there is One, the High above all height, 

Who doth not scorn thee — 
Ever from Him may beams of heavenly light 

Comfort, but warn thee. 

H. H. WELD. 



Two things should comfort suffering Christians, viz., all that 
they suffer is not hell ; yet it is all the hell they shall suffer. 

REV. JOHN MASON. 

Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me; 
for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall hnd rest unto 
your souls. For INIy yokeis easy, and My burden is light. — Matt, 
xi. 28 — 30. 

On God's eternal dial 
God's eternal sunbeams shine. 

Believe in God. 

THOMAS cooper. 

I I WILL ARISE, AND GO TO MY FATHER. 

■1 There is a real happiness indeed, even if it be not realized at 
the time, which may be gathering up in clouds and tears, — for 
all those clouds are breaking away one after another. Those 
very tears shall catch the light of the love of God, and make a 
- rainbow round the head of that man, who in the midst of aU his 
,| sorrows says, I will arise and go to my Father ! 

^ REV. C. D. MARSTON, M.A. 



331 



GONE BEFORE. 



GOD RULETH OVER ALL. 
Without the permission of our heavenly Father not ^' even 
a sparrow falleth to the ground ; " we are sure, therefore, that the 
chain of events which draws after it the growth or dissolution of 
mighty empires is suspended from the right hand of His power, 
and that although the links thereof may seem to be shaken to 
and fro by the breath of man, they are fast tied together by Him 
**that ruleth over all." And is there a Providence which 
watches over and guides the steps of individual men, and shapes 
their course through all the windings and unevennesses of their 
earthly pilgrimage, not according to their own views and aims, 
but with reference to their final happiness, and to the fulfilment 
of its own wise and gi-acious purposes ? And is there not a Pro- 
vidence which observes and mingles itself in the career of 
nations and governments, and controls their counsels, and re- 
presses their inordinacy, and prospers their virtuous endeavours ? 
The principles of the divine government must be invariable. It 
is, indeed, in the Bible that we see them most distinctly asserted, 
proclaimed, by the voice of prophecy, and realized in its fulfil- 
ments ; but by the aid of that light we may trace their operation, 
less conspicuous indeed, yet not obscurely marked, in the history 
of the world at large, and may connect the prosperity and decay 
of nations with the rules and ordinances of eternal justice. . . . 
Nowhere can we find any pretext for neglecting to recognise 
the hand of God in all His dispensations ; for whether the events 
which befall us are the providentially appointed consequences of 
our virtue or our sin, or whether they are merely the result of 
those general laws by which the sequence of events is governed, 
of this at least we are sure, that they are of God's own appoint- 
ment, and therefore they are fitting subjects of pious gratitude, 
or holy fear, of thanksgiving, or of deprecation. 

DR. C. J. BLOMFIELD, 
RIGHT REV. LORD BISHOP OF LONDON. 



HOLINESS THE WAY— HEAVEN THE HOME. 
They that believe have Christ in their hearts, heaven in their 
eye, and the world under their feet. God's Spirit is their guide, 



CONSOLATIOX. 335 

God's fear is their guard, God's people are their companions, 
God's promises are their cordials, holiness is their way, and 
heaven is their home. 

REV. JOHN MASON. 



OUR HOPE IS IX HEAVEN. 

A SAINT, whose blessedness is in heaven, cannot be made 
utterly unhappy by afflictions on earth. He will serve God 
with as much love and as good a will when poor, despised, dis- 
consolate, as in a flourishing condition, and with this peculiar 
satisfaction, that his sincerity is then most evident : for the 
ser^dce that is without respect to a present salary, a temporal 
interest, is not base and mercenary; besides, that obedience is 
more eminent and acceptable that is with sufferings, and the 
reward shall be answerable to our obedience. One draught of 
the river that makes glad the city of God above can sweeten all 
the bitterness of this world. In short, the Christian's hope is 
(in the Apostle's expression) ' ' The anchor of the soul, sure 
and steadfast, that enters within the veil it is fastened in 
heaven, confirmed by the fidelity of God's promises, and the 
prevailing intercession of Christ, and secured to us in the midst 
of all the turbulent agitations in the wide sea below. Hope 
makes not only patient, but joyful in our sufferings. A Christian, 
encouraged by the blessed hope, comes with joy to death, as 
the door that opens to the kingdom of glory and eternal bless- 
edness. AVhat death can destroy him, whose " life is hid with 
Christ in God ?" Deprive him of all the contents of this world, 
yet by communion with God heaven descends to him, or he 
ascends to heaven, where God is all in all. The blessed reward 
is not reserved wholly till hereafter. Divine joy is not deferred 
till our entrance into the celestial kingdom. There it is a refined 
joy, pure from all mixture of sorrow ; it is infinitely increased ; 
there spiritual joy meets eternal joy ; but it begins here ; the graci- 
ous soul has a taste and sight of it, as an earnest of the fulness 
of joy in heaven. Hope brings some leaves of the tree of life 
to refresh us with their fragrancy, but love brings of its fruits to 
strengthen us. As transplanted fruits, where the soil is defec- 



333 



GONE BEFORE. 



tive and the sun less favourable, are not of that beauty and 
goodness as in their original country, so heavenly joys in this 
life are inferior in their degree to those of the blessed above, 
but they are very reviving. " In the multitude of my thoughts 
within me, Thy comforts delight my soul." ** As the sufferings 
of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by 
Christ.'* 

DR. W. BATES. 



What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee. — Psa. Ivi. 3. 

MY God, make haste for my help. — Psa. Ixxi. 12. 

1 HAVE laid help upon One that is mighty. — Psa. Ixxxix. 19. 

As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you ; 
and ye shall be comforted. — Isa. Ixvi. 13. 

Blessed are they that moum ; for they shall be comforted.'* 
—Matt. v. 4. 

As thy days, so shall thy strength be. There is none 
like unto the God of Jeshurun, who rideth upon the heaven in 
thy help, and in his excellency on the sky. ' The eternal God 
is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. — Deut. 
xxxiii. 25 — 27. 



RESIGN AT ION. 



WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY. 

In anygreat trial of our own lives, or in the lives of those nearest 
and dearest to us, in any moment of heavy disappointment, sore 
temptation, or bitter sorrow, — nay, may we not also add in any 
unlocked for happiness, in any impending change, in any new 
opening of life, in every crisis of public anxiety or distress, 
every such event that stirs our hearts, and gives a keener 
edge to our feelings, and makes us use words we have never 
used before — in every one of these circumstances, the natural, 
congenial, simple prayer which steadies our excitement, soothes 
our sorrows, solemnizes our joys, and strengthens our weakness 
is Thy will be done." God's will must be best. We cannot 
expect to see the meaning of all His dispensations here. Now 
we see through a glass darkly. His way is in the sea, and His 
path in the great waters. We are dumb, and open not our 
mouths. Days, weeks, months, years, perhaps ages may be 
required to render intelligible and clear to us what is now dark ; 
like the splendid genius of some great general or statesman, 
which the minds of those whom it controls cannot comprehend, 
are such awful visitations of God's will. In a thousand ways 
these visitations act. They break down, they shatter, they 
destroy, but they also raise up ; they open wide the gates that 
were closed before, they create endless spheres for usefulness, 
opportunities for good, unperceived at the time but recognised 
at last ; and thus it Is that the prayer, **Thy will be done," 
extends far beyond mere submission. No doubt resignation is 
good, but it may be the mere content of philosophy or fatalism. 
Resignation implies something much higher than this. *'Thy 
Z 



338 



GONE BEFORE. 



will be done " is not a mere fate or destiny that has overtaken 
us ; not a mere abstract general law or fixed decree that has 
seized us, as if in the wheel of some hard, irresistible, lifeless 
machine ; it is the loving, personal, careful, deliberate will, 
wish, design, if I may say so, of a moral, responsible being like 
ourselves, having an intention and design in everything He 
wills ; but unlike ourselves in being able to do for us and to will 
for us better than we are able to will and do for ourselves, 
who knows our necessities before we ask, and our ignorance in 
asking, and who will of His own infinite wisdom grant us those 
things which for our own unworthiness we dare not, and for 
our blindness we cannot ask. It is the will of an almighty, 
all- wise, merciful Father, who judges us not as men judge us, 
hastily, or indulgently, or partially, or from prejudice, but 
according to the exact truth, knowing whereof we are made ; 
feeling for us and with us, doing all things for our good. It is 
the will not of an unknowTi, unseen, invisible deity withdrawn 
from all human experience, but it is the will of our loving and 
merciful Saviour, Christ Himself ; the will of Jesus Christ is 
the revelation of the will of God. What He wills for the poor, 
for the suffering, for the broken-hearted, God wills. When we 
pray that God's will may be done, this is as much as praying that 
Christ's w^ill may be done ; we know we are then praying for 
the very wisest, noblest, and grandest blessings that we can wish 
and hope to receive for ourselves, or for the human race. 

VERY REV. THE DEAN OF WESTMINSTER 
(dr. STANLEY). 

TRUE RESIGNATION. 

True resignation, which always brings with it the confidence 
that unchangeable goodness will make even the disappointment 
of our hopes and the contradictions of life conducive to some 
benefit, casts a grave but tranquil light over the prospect of even 
a toilsome and troubled life. 

BARON HUMBOLDT. 

I TRUSTED in Thee, O Lord : I said, Thou art my God ; my 
times are in Thy hands — Psa. xxxi. 14, 15. 



RESIGNATION. 



339 



MAKE GOD'S WILL THINE. 
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness 

His own thy will ; 
And with strength from Him shall thy utter weakness 

Life's task fulfil ; 
And that cloud itself, which now before thee 

Lies dark in view, 
Shall with beams of light from the inner glory 

Be stricken through. 

J. G. WHITTIER. 



Whate'er my doom, 
Tt cannot be unhappy ; God hath given me 
The boon of resignation. 

PROFESSOR WILSON. 



Still raise for good the supplicated voice, 

But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. 

DR. JOHNSON. 



WAIT HIS WILL. 

Ask not Aow, but trust Him still ; 
Ask not w/ien, but wait His will ; 
Simply on His word rely, 
God SHALL all your need supply. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



We bear it calmly, though a ponderous woe, 
And still adore the hand that gives the blow. 

Heaven is not always angry when He strikes 
But most chastises those whom most He likes. 

JOHN POMFRET. 



I DESIRE calmly to leave all to the immediate disposal of 
Providence. 

JOHN HOWARD. 



340 



GONE BEFORE. 



O LORD, I YIELD UNTO THY WILL. 

O, ALL-SEEING Light and eternal Life of all things, to whom 
nothing is either so great that it may resist, or so small that it 
is condensed, look upon my miser)^ vrith Thine eye of mercy, 
and let Thine infinite power vouchsafe to limit out some pro- 
portion of dehverance unto me as to that shall seem most con- 
venient. But yet, my God, if in Thy wisdom this be the aptest 
chastisement for my inexcusable folly ; if this low bondage be 
fittest for my over-high desires ; if the pride of my not-enough 
humble heart be thus to be broken, O Lord, I yield unto Thy 
will, and jo}'fully embrace that sorrow Thou wilt have me 
suffer. Only this much let me crave of Thee (let my craving, 
O Lord, be accepted of Thee, since even that proceeds from 
Thee), — let me crave, even by the noblest title which in my 
greatest afiliction I may give myself, that I am Thy creature, 
and by Thy goodness (which is Thyself), that Thou "vWlt suffer 
some beam of Thy majesty so to shine into my mind that it may 
still depend confidently upon Thee. 

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 



AY AIT AND BE STILL. 

Saviour, whose mercy, severe in its kindness. 
Has chastened my wanderings and guided my way, 

Adored be the power which illumined my blindness, 
And weaned me from phantoms that smiled to betray, 

1 thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven 
^Yould be bright as the summer and glad as the morn ; 

Thou show'dst me the path, — it was dark and uneven. 
All rugged with rock, and all tangled with thom. 

I dreamed of celestial rewards and renown, 

I grasped at the triumph which blesses the brave 

I asked for the palm branch, the robe and the crow^i, 
I asked — and Thou show'dst me a cross and a grave. 

Subdued and instructed at length to thy will, 
My hopes and my longings I fain would resign ; 

O give me the heart that can tvait and be stilly 
Nor know of a ^^dsh or a pleasure but Thine ! 



RESIGNATION. 



341 



There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe, 
But they stand in a region by mortals untrod ; 

There are rivers of joy, but they roll not below ; 
There is rest, but it dwells in the presence of God. 

SIR ROBERT GRANT. 



ACQUIESCENCE IN GOD'S WILL. 

It becomes us better to adore the issues of His providence 
in the effects than to inquire into the causes ; for submission is 
the only way of reasoning between a creature and its Maker ; 
and contentment and acquiescence in His will is the greatest duty 
we can pretend to, and the best remedy we can apply to all our 
misfortunes. 

SIR WM. temple. 



HIS WISDOM SEETH W^HAT IS GOOD FOR US. 

SiTH it hath liked him to sende us such a chaunce, we must, 
and are bounden, not only to be content, but also to be glad of 
His visitacion. He sente us all that we have loste ; and sith 
He hath by such a chaunce taken it away againe, His pleasure 
be fulfilled. Let us never grudge ther at, but take it in good 
worth, and hartely thanke Him, as well for adversitie as for 
prosperitie. And peradventure we have more cause to thank- 
Him for our losse than for our winning: for His wisdome 
better seeth what is good for us than we do ourselves. There- 
fore, I pray you be of good chere, and take all the howsold 
with you to church, and there thanke God, both for that Lie 
hath given us, and for that He hath taken from us. 

SIR THOMAS MORE. 

BELIEF IN THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

'Tis only from the belief of the goodness and wisdom of a 
Supreme Being that our calamities can be borne in that manner 
which becomes a man. 

DR. MACKENZIE, 



342 



GONE BEFORE. 



JESUS ALL-SUFFICIENT. 
Let me lay my head on the bosom of Jesus, and I fear not 
the distraction of care and trouble. If my God will ever give 
me the light of His smile, and grant His benediction, it is 
enough. 

REV. C. H. SPURGEON. 

GUIDE THOU MY STEPS. 

Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom, 

Lead Thou me on. 
The night is dark, and I am far from home, 

Lead Thou me on. 
Guide Thou my steps ; I do not ask to see 
The distant way — one step's enough for me. 

I was not always thus, nor prayed that Thou 

Would st lead me on ; 
I loved to see and choose my path — but now 

Lead Thou me on 
I loved the garish day, and spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will — remember not past years. 

Yet since Thy love is o'er me, sure it still 

Shall lead me on 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 

The night is gone ; 
And v^th the morn those angel faces smile 
Which I have loved long since, but lost awhile. 

DR. NEWMAN. 



HEAVEN SENDS RESIGNATION. 

Anguish dire cannot sustain itself, 
But settles down into a grief that loves, 
And finds relief in unreproved tears ; 
Then cometh sorrow like a Sabbath. Heaven 
Sends resignation dov^Ti, and faith ; and last 
Of all, there falls a kind oblivion 
Over the going out of that sweet light 
In which we had our being. professor WILSON. 



RESIGNATION. 



3^3 



WE NOW LOOK BACK AND KNOW THAT ALL 
WAS WELL. 

Ere this we have found out His meaning in life, and the 
flowers of earth are no more regretted ; and there is no point at 
which we would choose to have rested, now that we look back 
upon the past experiences and events of the journey ; and both 
our hands are laid in His, and we look up with unutterable trust 
and ineffable love. He has led us, little by little, with gentle 
steps, hiding the full length of the way that we must tread, lest 
we should start aside in fear and faint for weariness. And as it 
has been, so it must be ; onward we must go ; He ^^dll not leave 
us here ; there is yet in store for us more contrition, more devo- 
tion, more delight in Him. A few years hence, and you will 
see how true these words are. If you have not forsaken Him, 
you will be nigher still, walking in strange, it may be solitary- 
paths, in ways that are " called desert;" but knowing Him, as 
now you know Him not, vdth a fulness of knowledge, and a 
bowing of heart, and a holy self-renouncement, and a joy that 
you are altogether His. ^^llat now seems too much shall then 
seem all too little ; what too nigh, not nigh enough to His awful 
cross. Oh, how our thoughts change ! A few years ago, and 
we should have thought our present state excessive and severe ; 
we should have shrunk from it then as we may now shrink from 
the hereafter. But we look back and know that all was well. 
In all our past life we would not have one grief the less, or one 
joy the more. It is all well. 

''The Ha? vest of a Quiet Eye^ 

SWEETLY BEXDIXG TO HIS WILL. 

Since thy Father's arm sustain thee, 

Peaceful be ; 
When a chastening hand restrains thee, 

It is He. 

Know — this love in full completeness 
Fills the measure of thy weakness ; 
If He wound thy spirit sore, 
Trust Him more. 



344 



GONE BEFORE. 



Without murmur, uncomplaining, 

In His hand 
Lay whatever things thou can'st not 

Understand ; 
Though the world the folly spumeth, 
From thy faith in pity turneth, 
Peace thy inmost soul shall fill, 

Lying still ! 

Like an infant, if thou thinkest 

Thou can'st stand, 
Childlike, proudly pushing back 

The offered hand, 
Courage soon is changed to fear. 
Strength does feebleness appear ; — 
In His love if thou abide 

He will guide. 

Fearest sometimes that thy Father 

Hath forgot ? 
When the clouds around thee gather 

Doubt Him not. 
Always hath the daylight broken, 
Always hath He comfort spoken, 
Better hath He been for years 

Than thy fears. 

Therefore, whatsoe'er betideth, 

Night or day, 
Know His love for thee provideth 

Good alway. 
Crown of sorrow gladly take, 
Grateful wear it for His sake, 
Sweetly bending to His will, 

Lying still. 

PAUL GERHARDT. 



RESIGNATION. 



345 



SUBDUE THYSELF. 
Live as near to Jesus as you possibly can, but die to self. 
'Tis a daily work. Self is like a mountain. Jesus is a sun 
that shines on the other side of the mountain, and now and then 
a sunbeam comes over the top ; we get a glimpse, a sort of 
twilight apprehension of the brightness of the sun, but self must 
be much more subdued before we can bask in the beams of the 
ever-blessed Jesus, or say in everything, **Thy will be done." 

BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 



*^NOT MY WILL, BUT THINE BE DONE.'^ 

Though we cannot by any sorrow we have had measure the 
deep agony of Jesus' sufferings, we can, from the way in which 
He met it, draw a lesson and a comfort. Look then from His 
suffering to His resignation, *' Not my will, but Thine be done." 
See in all your trials and your sufferings the hand of God, and 
the sight will bring a resignation that will take away more than 
half their weight. Look at your trials as the chastening of a wise 
and kind Father, who intends a blessing to come out of them, 
and then surely your path through them will be greatly eased. 
Never in any circumstances think that you are out of God's 
sight ; believe in the providence of God in the smallest things 
of your life. Believe what He who drank the bitter cup in 
Gethsemane said, *'Not a sparrow falls to the ground without 
your Father's notice." And when it comes to pass, either 
through pains of body or pains of mind and heart, that you feel 
sorrowful even unto death, say to your Father in heaven what 
the Saviour said, *^Thy will be done." Take the cup as 
though you had visibly received it at His hand. He will not 
suffer you to be tried beyond what you can bear. There is an 
end to the longest night, and though your sufferings may be 
prolonged even unto death, they finish there, and then begin 
joys which are greater and higher than any you have had in this 
world. We may also learn from our Saviour in His sufferings 
with respect to answers to prayer. Here was an. earnest prayer 
— sent up from One who had never sinned : O my Father, 
if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." Yet the cup was 



346 



GONE BEFORE, 



not allowed to pass ; but there came an angel from heaven 
strengthening Him, and He exclaimed, O my Father, if the 
cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it. Thy will be 
done." When agony has made us pray earnestly, and still the 
agony continues, how hard to believe that God has heard, that 
He is just and kind, to continue praying ! Remember Geth- 
semane when your faith fails. God is about our path in a way 
that we cannot conceive of You never breathe an earnest 
prayer that is not in one way or another answered. You will 
find the truth of this when you have passed into the eternal 
world. * ' He sitteth between the cherubims, be the earth never 
so unquiet. Let the spirit of your hearts be that which was in 
the heart of the Saviour, * Thy will be done, ' and you shall 
find in the end that * He hath done all things well. ' " 

REV. E. G. CHARLESWORTH. 



There are many things that make it hard for us to say, 
Thy will be done," and we must not be discouraged if we 
do not at once come up to so high and blessed an attainment as 
to be able to say, with the thoroughness of purpose with which 
Paul expressed it, The will of the Lord be done ; " but we 
should be seeking to attain to it, so that when once we have 
discovered God's will we should be able and willing to sacrifice 
our selfishness and our own affections to Him, who is too wise 
to err, and too good to be unkind. 

rev. WM. C ADM an, M.A. 

GOD OFTEN TAKES OUR CHERISHED THINGS. 
Very often what we would offer to God is not what He calls 
upon us to relinquish. What He demands of us is often what 
we most cherish ; it is this Isaac of our hearts, this only son, 
this well-beloved, that He commands us to resign. It is His 
will that we should yield up all that is most dear, and short of 
this obedience we have no repose. Who is he that has 
resisted the Almighty, and been at peace ? " Give up everything 
to Him, and the God of peace will be with you. 

ARCHBISHOP FENELON. 



RESIGNATION. 



347 



RELY ON GOD'S WISDOM. 

Quiet, Lord, my froward heart, 

Make me teachable and mild ; 
Upright, simple, free from art. 

Make me as a weaned child ; 
From distrust and envy free, 
Pleased with all that pleases Thee, 

What Thou shalt to-day provide, 

Let me as a child receive ; 
What to-morrow may betide, 

Calmly to Thy wisdom leave ; 
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care, 
Why should I the burden bear ? 

As a little child relies 

On a care beyond his own ; 
Knows he's neither strong nor wise, 

Fears to stir a step alone ; 
Let me thus with Thee abide. 
As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 

REV. JOHN NEWTON. 



SUBMISSION TO THE LORD'S WILL. 

If but as a creature, O God, Thou hast full rigiht to dispose of 
me as Thou wilt ; I am Thy clay, fashion me as Thou pleasest ; 
but as Thy redeemed one, as Thine adopted one, I have full and 
dear interest in Thee as a Father, and Thou canst be no other 
than Thyself ; let it not be enough for me to hold my peace 
because Thou, O Lord, hast done it ; but let me break silence 
in praising Thy name, for ' ^ that Thou in very faithfulness and 
love hast afflicted me." Oh ! let me meekly lie down, and put 
my mouth in the dust, patiently submitting to Thy holy pleasure, 
and blessing the hand from which I smart ! 

BISHOP HALL. 



GONE BEFORE. 



ACQUIESCENCE IN GOD'S WILL. 
Long have I viewed, long have I thought, 
And held with trembling hand this bitter draught ; 
'Twas now just to my lips applied 
Nature shrank in, and all my courage died. 
But now resolved, and firm I'll be. 
Since, Lord, 'tis mingled and reached out by Thee. 
I'll trust my great Physician's skill, 
I know what He prescribes can ne'er be ill ; 
To each disease He knows what's fit, 
I own Him wise and good, and do submit. 
I'll now no longer grieve or pine 
Since 'tis Thy pleasure, Lord, it shall be mine. 
Thy med'cine puts me to great smart, 
Thou'st wounded me in my most tender part ; 
But 'tis with a design to cure ; 
I must and will Thy sovereign touch endure. 
All that I prized below is gone, 
But yet I still will pray — Thy will be done. 
Since 'tis Thy sentence I should part 
With the most precious treasure of my heart, 
I freely that and more resign : 
My heart itself, as its delight, is Thine ; 
My little all I give to Thee ; 
Thou gav'st a greater gift, Thy Son, to me. 

He left true bliss and joys above, 

Himself He emptied of all good but love : 

For me He freely did forsake 

INIore good than He from me can ever take. 

A mortal life for a divine 

He took, and did at last e'en that resign. 

Take all, great God, I mil not grieve, 

But still will wish that I had still to give. 

I hear Thy voice. Thou bidd'st me quit 

My paradise— I bless, and do submit. 

T will not murmur at Thy word. 

Nor beg Thy angel to sheathe up his sword. 

BISHOP NORRIS. 



RESIGNATION. 



S49 



MURMUR NOT AT GOD'S CHASTENING. 

Heart, be still ! 
In the darkness of thy woe 
Bow thou silently and low ; 
Comes to thee what e'er God will, 

Be thou still ! 

Be thou still ! 
Vainly all thy words are spoken, 
Till the word of God hath broken 
Life's dark mysteries — good or ill — 

Be thou still ! 

Rest thou still ! 
'Tis thy Father's work of grace, — 
Wait thou yet before His face ; 
He thy sure deliverance will — 

Keep thou still! 

Lord my God ! 
By Thy gi*ace O may I be 
All submissive, silently, 
To the chastenings of Thy rod ; 

Lord my God ! 

Shepherd King ! 
From Thy fulness grant to me 
Still, yet fearless, faith in Thee, 
Till from night the day shall spring ! 

Shepherd King ! 

SCHILLER. 



The best way to bear crosses is to consecrate them all in 
silence to God. Fletcher. 



Is it well with thy husband ? Is it well with the child ? And 
she answered, It is well.— 2 Kings iv. 26. 



350 



GONE BEFORE. 



BLESSINGS STILL REMAIN. 

Whatsoe'er we suffer, being still 
Fixed and appointed by the heavenly will, 
Behoves us bear vrith patience as we may 
The potter's moulding of our helpless clay. 
Much, lady, hath he taken ; but He leaves 
"What outweighs all for which thy spirit grieves ; 
No greater gift lies e'en in God's control 
Than the large love that fills a human soul. 
If, taking that. He left thee all the rest, 
Would not vain anguish wring thy pining breast ? 
If, taking all, that dear love yet remains, 
Hath it not balm for all thy bitter pains ? 

HON. MRS. NORTON. 



Why should I repine, 
That Jesus in His bosom wears 
A flower that once was mine ? 

MRS. SIGOURNEY. 



*'THY WILL, NOT MINE BE DONE." 

I HAVE encountered pain and trial. 

Griefs, disappointments, anguish, doubts and fears. 
Fate has poured out on me her chastening vial. 

Melting my choicest pearls in acrid tears. 
My warmest prayer has met with stern denial ; 

My rarest chaplets have been flung on biers ; 
But there's a saving anchor for the one 

Who learns to say, ' Thy will, not mine, be done.' 

ELIZA COOK. 



Afflictions cannot injure when blended with submission. 

REY. H. F. BURDER, D.D. 



RESIGNATION. 



351 



LORD JESUS, AS THOU WILT. 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ; oh, may Thy will be mine ! 

Into Thy hand of love I would my all resign. 

Through sorrow or through joy, conduct me as Thine own, 

And help me still to say, my Lord, Thy will be done ! 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ! if needy here and poor, 

Give me Thy people's bread, their portion rich and sure. 

The manna of Thy word let my soul feed upon ; 

And if all else should fail, my Lord, Thy will be done. 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ! if among thorns I go. 

Still sometimes here and there let a few roses blow, 

But Thou on earth along the thorny path hath gone ; 

Then lead me after Thee, my Lord, Thy will be done ! 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ! though seen through many a tear, 

Let not my star of hope grow dim or disappear ; 

Since Thou on earth hast wept and sorrowed oft alone, 

If I must weep with Thee, my Lord, Thy will be done ! 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ! if loved ones must depart. 

Suffer not sorrow's flood to overwhelm my heart : 

For they are blest with Thee, their race and conflict won ; 

Let me but follow them, my Lord, Thy will be done ! 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ! when death itself draws nigh, 

To Thy dear wounded side I would for refuge fly. 

Leaning on Thee to go where Thou before hast gone ; 

The rest as Thou shalt please, — my Lord, Thy will be done ! 

Lord Jesus, as Thou wilt ! all shall be well for me ; 

Each changing future scene I gladly trust with Thee. 

Straight to my home above I travel calmly on, 

And sing in life or death, my Lord, Thy will be done ! 

SCHMOLK. 

Make not our right the right — or might. 
But make Thy right shine clear. 

DINAH MULOCH. 

Resolved and agreed that God's will ought to determine 
mine, and no^mine pretend to determine the will of God. 

GOSSNER. 



GONE BEFORE. 



TAKE NOT GOD'S DOING WITH 
UNTHANKFULNESS. 

Comfort, dear mother ! God is much displeased 
That with unthankfulness you take His doing : 
In common worldly things 'tis call'd ungrateful, 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ; 
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven. 
For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



JESUS GUIDE ME. 

When, my Saviour, shall I be 
Perfectly resigned to Thee ? 
Only guided by Thy light, 
Only mighty in thy might ? 
Let me to Thy goodness leave 
W^hen and what Thou art to give. 
All Thy works to Thee are known : 
Let Thy blessed will be done. 

REV. JOHN WESLEY. 



GOD TAKES BUT WHAT HE GAVE. 

No tears relieved the burden of her heart ; 
Stunned with the heavy woe, she felt like one 
Half wakened from a midnight dream of blood. 

But sometimes, when the boy 

Would wet her hand with tears. 
And, looking up to her fixed countenance, 
Sob out the name of mother. Then did she 

Utter a feeble groan. 
At length, collecting, Zneiab turned her eyes 
To heaven, exclaiming, Praised be the Lord I 

He gave, He takes away, 

The Lord our God is good. 

SOUTHEY. 



RESIGNATION. 



353 



**ARISE AND SHINE!" 

With quivering heart and trembling will 

The word hath passed thy lips, 
Within the shadow, cold and still, 

Of some fair joy's eclipse, 

Thy will be done ! " Thy God hath heard, 
And He will crown that faith-framed word. 

Thy prayer shall be fulfilled ; but how ? 

His thoughts are not as thine ; 
While thou would'st only weep and bow, 

He saith, Arise and shine ! " 
Thy thoughts were all of grief and night, 
But His of boundless joy and light. 

Thy Father reigns supreme above ; 

The glory of His name 
In grace and wisdom, truth and love, 

His will must be the same. 
And thou hast asked all joys in one 
In whispering forth, Thy will be done." 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



CONTENT WHILE I AM HIS. 

The good I have is from His store supplied ; 

The ill is only what He deems the best ; 
With Him my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside. 

And poor without Him, though of all possessed. 
Changes may come, — I take, or I resign, — 
Content while I am His, while He is mine. 

Whatever may change, in Him no change is seen: 
A glorious Sun that wanes not, nor declines. 

Above the clouds and storms He walks serene. 
And sweetly on His people's darkness shines. 

All may depart, — I fret not, nor repine, 

While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. 

2 A 



GONE BEFORE. 

He stays me falling ; lifts me up when down ; 

Reclaims me wandering ; guards from every foe ; 
Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown, 

Which, in return, before His feet I throw, 
Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine, 
Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 

While here, alas ! I know but half His love, 
But half discern Him, and but half adore ; 

But when I meet Him in the realms above, 
I hope to love Him better, praise Him more, 

And feel and tell, amid the choir divine, 

How fully I am His, and He is mine. 

REV. H. F. LYTE. 



TRUST IN GOD. 

The child leans on its parent's breast, 
Leaves there its cares and is at rest ; 
The bird sits singing by his nest. 

And tells aloud 
His trust in God, and so is blest 

'Neath every cloud. 

He has no store, he sows no seed ; 
Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed ; 
By flowing stream or grassy mead, 

He sings to shame 
Men, who forget, in fear of need, 

A Father's name. 

The heart that trusts for ever sings, 
And feels as light as it had wings ; 
A well of peace within it springs; 

Come good or ill, 
Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings, 

It is His will. 



REV. ISAAC WILLIAMS. 



RESIGNATION. 



355 



THE RIGHT WAY. 
I CANNOT hear Thy voice, Lord ! dost Thou still hear my cry ? 
I cling to Thine assurance that Thou art ever nigh ; 
I know that Thou art faithful, I trust, but cannot see 
That it is still the right way by which Thou leadest me. 

Is it really leading onwards? When the shadows flee away, 
Shall I find this path has brought me more near to perfect day ? 
Or am I left to wander thus that I may stretch my hand 
To some more weary traveller in this same shadow-land ? 

Is this Thy chosen training for some future task unknown ? 
Is it that I may learn to rest upon Thy word alone ? 
Whate'er it be, O leave me not, fulfil Thou every hour 
The purpose of Thy goodness, and the work of faith with power. 

I lay my prayer before Thee, and trusting in Thy word. 
Though all is silence in my heart, I know that Thou hast heard ; 
To that blest city lead me, Lord (still choosing all my way), 
Where faith melts into vision as the starlight into day. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



RESIGNATION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
The duty to which the Christian is summoned is to subdue 
those sinful risings of soul, and with a peaceful composure and 
serenity to resign every event to the superintendence and 
determination of God. This resignation to the divine will is 
a most blessed attainment, and is unquestionably our most 
reasonable service ; yet experience tells us that it is by no means 
easily acquired. It is true that when our worldly affairs glide 
along in a smooth and easy course, and when we are favoured 
with health and riches, with friends and influence, with domestic 
comfort and inward peace, we may find if an easy matter to be 
satisfied with the dispensations of Providence ; but when tribula- 
tion abounds, and swelling waters are ready to overwhelm ; 
when our earthly prospects are blighted, and poverty as an armed 
man enters our dwellings and seizes our substance ; when 
disease and death look in at our windows, and mark for 



356 



GONE BEFORE. 



their prey those who are dear to us as our o^vn souls ; when friends 
prove perfidious, and they whom love and duty should have 
bound to us, all turned against us ; when grief and anguish rend 
our hearts and all around is dark, and threatening and tem- 
pestuous, then to look up in silent submission, and to be 
still, because the Lord hath done it, to adore the footsteps 
of the divine ]Majesty when we cannot clearly trace the designs 
of His counsel, and to commit our way to Him who is able to 
extricate us from every difficulty, peril, and woe, — this is an 
elevation of soul ^\ hich can only be attained after many a painful 
and turbulent struggle betv\xen the weakness of nature and per- 
versity of sin, and the principles and hopes of the gospel by which 
alone they are to be restramed and subdued. But, however 
difficult it may be, it is encouraging to reflect that, through the 
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, it has often been attained even 
by men "of like passions with ourselves.''' 

REV. PETER GRANT. 



TRANQUILLITY OF MIND. 

There is but one way to tranquilHty of mind and happiness ; 
let this, therefore, be always ready at hand with thee, both when 
thou wakest early in the morning, and all the day long, and 
when thou goest late to sleep, to account no external things thine 
ovm, but to commit all these to God. 

EPICTETUS. 



CLINGING TO MY FATHER'S BREAST. 

Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will— 

I will lie still— 

1 will not stir, lest I forsake Thine ann, 

And break the charm 
VHiich lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, 
In perfect rest. 

REV. JOHN KEBLE. 



RESIGNATION. 



357 



CHOOSE THOU THE PATH FOR ME. 
Thy way, not mine, O Lord, 

However dark it be ; 
Lead me by Thine own hand, 
Choose Thou the path for me. 

Smooth let it be or rough, 

It ^^dll be still the best ; 
Winding or straight, it leads 

Right onward to Thy rest. 

I dare not choose my lot ; 

I would not if I might ; 
Choose Thou for me, my God, 

So shall I walk aright. 

The kingdom that I seek 

Is Thine ; — so let the way 
That leads to it be Thine, 

Else I must surely stray. 

Take Thou my cup, and it 

With joy or sorrow fill 
As best to Thee may seem ; 

Choose Thou my good or ill. 

Choose Thou for me my friends, 

My sickness, or my health ; 
Choose Thou my cares for me, 

My poverty or wealth. 

Not mine, not mine the choice 

In things or great or small ; 
Be Thou my guide, my strength. 

My wisdom, and my all. 

REV. HORATIUS BONAR. 

Religion dispenses her choicest cordials in every season of 
exigence, bereavement, and in death. In all the rough blasts of 
adversity the true Christian stands, like the glory of the forest, 
erect and vigorous ; stripped indeed of his summer foliage, but 
more than ever discovering to the observing eye the solid 
strength of his substantial texture. Relying on the mercy of his 



358 



GONE BEFORE. 



Redeemer, he can calmly acquiesce in all God's dealings, and 
repose on the fidelity of God ; and in the valley of death he can 
lift up an eye, dim perhaps and feeble, yet sparkling with hope, 
to the heavenly inheritance, to those joys which have not entered 
into the heart of man to conceive. 

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 

AS GOD WILL. 
Pain's furnace-heat within me quivers — 

God's breath upon the fire doth blow, 
And all my heart in anguish shivers 

And trembles at the fiery glow ; 
And then I whisper, As God A\'ill ! " 
And in His hottest fire hold still. 
He comes and lays my heart, all heated, 

On the bare anvil, minded so 
Into His own fair shape to beat it 

With His great hammer, blow on blow ; 
And then I whisper, "As God "vyill ! " 
And at His hea^dest blows hold still. 
He takes my softened heart and beats it — 

The sparks fly off at every blow ; 
He turns it o'er and o'er, and heats it, 

And lets it cool, and makes it glow ; 
And then I whisper, " As God will ! " 
And in His mighty hand hold still. 
W^hy should I murmur ? for the sorrow 

Thus only longer-lived would be ; 
Its end may come, and will to-morrow, 

When God has done His work in me ; 
So I say, trusting, " As God will ! " 
And, trusting, to the end hold still. 
He kindles, for my profit purely. 

Affliction's glowing, fiery brand ; 
And all His heaviest blows are surely 

Inflicted by a master-hand ; 
So I say, praying, * ' As God will ! " 
And hope in Him and suffer still. 

JULIUS STURM. 



RESIGNATION. 



359 



Accuse not Heaven's high will, 
Nor struggle with the tenfold chain of fate 
That links thee to thy woes ; Oh, rather yield, 
And wait the happier hour, when innocence 
Shall weep no more. Rest in that pleasing hope, 
And yield thyself to Heaven. 

HILL. 



GOD LEADETH BY A RIGHT WAY. 

FOOLISH heart, be still, and vex thyself no more ; 
Wait thou for God, until He opens pleasure's door ; 

Thou know'st not what is good for thee ; but God doth know ; 
Let Him thy strong reliance be, and rest thee so. 

He counted all my days, and every joy and tear. 
Ere I knew how to praise, or e'en had learn'd to fear. 
Before I Him, my Father knew. He called me child ; 
His help has guarded me all through this weary wild. 

The least of all my cares is not to Him unknown ; 
He sees and He prepares the pathway for His own ; 
And what His hand assigns to me, that serves my peace ; 
The greatest burden it might be, yet joys increase. 

1 live no more on earth, nor seek my full joy here ; 

The world seems little worth when heaven is shining clear ; 

Yet joyfully I go my way, so free, so blest. 

Sweetening my toil from day to day with thoughts of rest. 

Give me, my Lord, whate'er will bind my heart to Thee, 
For that I make my prayer, and know Thou hearest me ; 
But all that might keep back my soul, make Thee forgot. 
Though of earth-good it were the whole. Oh ! give it not. 

When sickness and distress fill all my soul with fear. 
And men their hate express, my sky shall still be clear, 
Then wait I, Lord, and wait for Thee ; and I am still — 
Though mine should unaccomplished be, do thou Thy will ! 



GONE BEFORE. 



Thou art the strength and stay of every weary soul ; 
Thy wisdom rules the way ; Thy pity does control. 
What ill can happen unto me when Thou art near ? 
Thou wilt, O God, my keeper be ; I will not fear. 

C. F. GELBERT. 



Endless all malice, if our God is nigh ; 
Fruitless all pains, if He His help deny ; 
Patient I pass these gloomy hours away, 
And wait the morning of eternal day. 

LADY JANE GREY. 



GOD MEASURES ALL OUR TRIALS. 

God the Creator, with a pulseless hand 
Of unoriginated power, hath weighed 
The dust of earth and tears of man in one 

Measure, and by one weight ; 

So saith His holy Book. 

Shall we then who have issued from the dust. 
And there return ; shall we, who toil for dust, 
And wrap our winnings in this dusty life, 

Say, ' No more tears, Lord God ! 

The measure ruimeth o'er ? ' 

O Holder of the balance, laughest Thou ! 
Nay, Lord ! be gentler to our foolishness, 
For His sake, who assumed our dust, and turns 

On Thee pathetic eyes, 

Still moistened with our tears. 

And teach us, O our Father, while we weep, 
To look in patience upon earth and learn — 
Waiting in that meek gesture, till at last 

These tearful eyes be filled 

With the dry dust of death. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 



RESIGNATION. 



361 



LORD, GIVE ME HOPE. 
Lost in darkness, girt with dangers, round me strangers, 

Through an alien land I roam. 
Outward trials, bitter losses, inward crosses, 

Lord, Thou know'st, have sought me home. 
Sin of courage hath bereft me, and hath left me 

Scarce a spark of faith and hope ; 
Bitter tears my heart oft sheddeth, as it dreadeth 

I am past Thy mercy's scope. 
Peace I cannot find ; O take me, Lord, and make me 

From this yoke of e\dl free ; 
Calm this longing, never sleeping, still my weeping. 

Give me hope once more in Thee. 

GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. 



NOT LOST, BUT ONLY HIDDEN. 
Where are the days of sorrow, 

And lonely hours of pain. 
When work is interrupted. 

Or planned and willed in vain ? 
Not lost ! They are the thorniest shoots 
That bear the Master's pleasant fruits. 

Where, where are all God's lessons, 

His teachings dark or bright ? 
Not lost, but only hidden, 

Till, in eternal light. 
We see, while at His feet we fall, 
The reasons and results of all. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 



'TIS ENOUGH THAT CHRIST KNOWS ALL, 
Lord, it belongs not to my care 

Whether I live or die ; 
To love and serve Thee is my share, 

And this Thy grace must give. 



362 



GONE BEFORE. 



If life be long, I wall be glad, 

That I may long obey ; 
If short, yet why should I be sad, 

That shall have the same pay ? 

Christ leads me through no darker rooms 

Than He went through before ; 
He that into God's kingdom comes 

Must enter by His door. 
Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet, 

Thy blessed face to see ; 
For if thy work on earth be sweet, 

What will Thy glory be ? 

Then shall I end my sad complaints, 

And weary, sinful days, 
And join with the triumphant saints 

That sing Jehovah's praise. 
My knowledge of that life is small, 

The eye of faith is dim ; * 
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, 

And I shall be ^vith Him. 

RICHARD BAXTER, 



ALL THE DAYS OF MY APPOINTED TIME ^VILL 
I WAIT TILL MY CHANGE COME. 

Oh ! just when thou shalt choose would I depart, 
My Father and my God ! I would not choose, 
Ev'n if I might, the moment to unloose 
The bonds that bind my weak and worthless heart 
From its bright home. So I but have a part 
However humble there, it matters not 
Or long or short my pilgrimage — my path 
Joyful or joyless ; if the flowers may start 
Where'er I tread, or thorns obstruct my path. 



RESIGNATION. 



363 



I look not at the present ; many years 
Are but so many moments, though of tears : — 
My soul's bright home a lovelier aspect hath ; — 
And if it surely shall be mine — and then 
For ever mi7ie I it 77iatters little wJmi ! 

REV. THOS. RAYSON TAYLOR. 

THE WISEST WILL IS GOD'S. 
The wisest will is God's own will ; 
Rest on this anchor and be still ; 
For peace around thy path shall flow, 
When only wishing here below 
What pleases God. 

PAUL GERHARDT. 



HOPE BORN FROM TEARS. 

I KNOW thou art gone to the home of thy rest ; 

Then why should my soul be so sad ? 
I know thou art gone where the weary are blest, 

And the mourner looks up and is glad ! 
Where love has put off in the land of its birth 

The stains it had gathered in this ; 
And hope, the sweet singer that gladdened the earth, 
Lies asleep on the bosom of bliss ! 

I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is starred 
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul. 

Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marred, 
Nor the heart be flung back from its goal ; 

I know thou hast drunk of the Lethe that flows 
Through a land where they do not forget, 

That sheds over memory only repose, 
And takes from it only regret ! 

In thy far-away dwelling, wherever it be, 

I believe thou hast visions of mine ; 
And the love that made all things a music to me 

I yet have not learnt to resign ; — 



364 



GONE BEFORE. 



In the hush of the night, in the waste of the sea ; 

Or alone with the breeze on the hill, 
I have ever a presence that whispers of thee, 
And my spirit lies dov^Ti and is still. 

Mine eye must be dark that so long has been dimmed. 

Ere again it may gaze upon thine : 
But my heart has revealings of thee and thy home 

In many a token and sign, 
I never look up with a vow to the sky, 

But a light like thy beauty is there, — 
And I hear a low murmur like thine in reply 
When I pour out my spirit in prayer. 

And though like a mourner that sits by a tomb, 

I am wrapped in a mantle of care. 
Yet the grief of my bosom — oh ! call it not gloom — 

Is not the black grief of despair. 
By sorrow revealed, as the stars are by night, 

Far off a bright vision appears ; 
And hope, like the rainbow, a creature of light, 
Is bom, like the rainbow from tears. 

T. K. HERVEY. 



I WILL JOY IN THE GOD OF MY SALVATION. 

We may feel it very hard for the prop around which for years 
we have clung, and upon which we have rested for our support 
in heaviness, and for our shelter in the hour of storm, to be 
wrested from us ; but a proper conception of the divine character 
and government, and an humble trust in the divine goodness, 
will lead us to say with the prophet Habakkuk, * * Although the 
fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; 
the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no 
meat ; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall 
be no herd in the stalls : yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will 
joy in the God of my salvation." As the shell of ocean bears 
ever with it the wind -music of its shores, so faith bears with it 
to the remotest boundaries of life, even to the grave's brink, this 



RESIGNATION. 365 

grand old dirge of a trusting heart, The Lord gave, and the 
Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." 

REV. W. D. HORWOOD. 



BE SILENT, OH MY SOUL. 

Stream of my life, dull, placid river, flow ! 

I have no fear of the ingulfing seas ; 

Neither I look before m^e nor behind, 

But, Ipng mute with wave-dipped hand, float on. 

It was not always so. IMy brethren, see 
This oar-stained, trembling palm. It keeps the sign 
Of youth's mad wrestling with the waves that drift 
Immutably, eternally along. 

I would have had them flow through fields and flowers, 
Giving and taking freshness, perfume, joy 
It winds through — here. Be silent, O my soul ! — 
The finger of God's ^^dsdom drew its line. 

So I lean back and look up to the stars, 
And count the ripples circling to the shore, 
And watch the solemn river rolling on 
Until it widen to the open seas. 

DINAH MULOCH. 



As Thou wilt — w/ia^ Thou wilt— za/ien Thou wilt. 

THOMAS A-KEMPI3. 



But peace ! I must not quarrel with the will 
Of highest dispensation, which herein 
Haply had ends above my reach to know. 

MILTON. 



366 



GONE BEFORE. 



Behold, here am I ; let Him do as seemeth good unto 
Him. — 2 Sam. xv. 26. 

What ! shall we receive good at the hand of God and not 
receive evil ? — ^Job ii. 10. 

We know that all things work together for good to them 
that love God. — Rom. viii. 28. 

Submit yourselves therefore to God. — ^James iv. 7. 

Be still and know that I am God. — Psa. xlvi. 10. 

It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good. — 
I Sam. iii. 18. 

Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me ; 
nevertheless, not My will, but Thine, be done. — Luke xxii. 42. 

The will of the Lord be done. — Acts xxi. 14. 

Now he is dead, wherefore should I fast ? Can I bring him 
back again ? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me. 
— 2 Sam. xii. 23. 

The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be 
the name of the Lord.—Job i. xxi. 



HEAVEN. 



ENTIRE REST. 

Blessed are the people of God to whom there remaineth" 
an entire " rest from every form of disquieting assault. Many 
as Satan's emissaries are, not one of their legion throng shall 
ever cross the river of death ; not one of his base suggestions 
shall ever be heard on the other side of the Jordan. A victory 
complete, signal, and everlasting hath been obtained for us over 
our enemies on every side. There shall be rest also from per- 
plexity and fear. Dark, very dark, are the shadows which 
are flung across the stream of time ; intricate, very intricate, are 
the ways by which God often leads His people. There, what- 
ever be their measure of sainted bliss, it shall be fixed, un- 
changeable, eternal. The light of the celestial city shall reveal, 
with transparent clearness, all that was mysterious and dark in 
the ways of God's providence here, whilst the gates of that city 
shall be closed against eveiy fear that could disturb the repose, 
or affect the rest of the people of God. 

REV. DANIEL MOORE, M.A. 



Who are these which are arrayed in white robes, and 
whence came they ? And he said to me. These are they 
which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their 
robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb ; therefore 
are they before the throne of God and serve Him day and night 
in His temple, and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell 
among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any 



368 



HEAVEN. 



more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat ; for the 
Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and 
shall lead them mito living fountains of waters, and God shall 
vdpQ away all tears from their eyes. — Rev. vii. 13 — 17. 

The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion 
with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads ; they shall 
obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee 
away. — Isa. xxxv. 10. 

And God shall ^^'ipe away all tears from their eyes, and 
there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying ; 
neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are 
passed away. These words are true and faithful. — Rev. 
xxi. 4, 5. 



OUR WELCOME IN HEAVEN. 
The solemn hour of death once passed, the spirit upborne by 
angels finds itself at once ushered into the reception-room of 
heaven,- the first of the many mansions. There we shall see 
Jesus, not seated, but standing, as when He rose to receive His 
first mart}T, to welcome us home, encircled by the general 
assembly and church of the first born, the spirits of just men 
made perfect, and an innumerable company of angels waiting to 
gi'eet our arrival. In advance, and more eager than all the rest 
of that blessed throng, will be the loved ones from whom we 
parted on the margin of the river, across which they passed to 
the celestial city. Oh, what a reception, what greetings, what 
joy-wishings then ! " Welcome, husband, wife, child ! welcome, 
parent, brother, sister, pastor, friend ! " will burst from ten 
thousand times ten thousand lips, louder than the voice of many 
waters. 

EEV. OCTAVIUS WINSLOW, D.D. 



PERFECT LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 
There we shall meet with, many of our dear relations and 
intimate friends, and perhaps "s^ith many of our enemies, to 



HEAVEX. 



369 



whom we shall then be perfectly reconciled ; for heaven is a 
state of perfect love and friendship, and when this blessed 
society is met together and thus united by love, they shall all 
sing everlasting songs of praise to God for all His works of 
wonder, for the effects of that infinite goodness and admirable 
wisdom, and almighty power, which are clearly seen in the crea^ 
tion and government of the world, and all the creatures in it ; 
particularly of His favours to mankind for the benefit of their 
beings, for the comfort of their lives, and for all His merciful 
providences toward them in this world ; but, above all, for the 
redemption of their souls by the death of His Son ; and this 
happiness shall be eternal. 

ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 



THERE IS ONLY A VEIL BETWEEN US AND 
HEAVEN. 

The nearness of heaven is suggested by the epithet ' ' veil. 
Christians, there is only a veil between us and heaven ! A veil 
is the thinnest and frailest of all conceivable partitions. It is 
but a fine tissue, a delicate fibre of embroidery. It waves in 
the wind ; the touch of a child may stir it, an accident rend 
it ; the silent action of tmie will moulder it away. The veil 
that conceals heaven is only one embroidered existence, and, 
though fearfully and wonderfully made, it is only wrought out 
of our frail mortality. So slight is it that the puncture of a 
thorn, the touch of an insect's sting, the breath of an infected 
atmosphere, may make it shake and fall. In a bound, in a 
moment, in the twinkling of an eye, in the throb of a pulse, in 
the flash of a thought, we may start into disembodied spirits, 
glide unabashed into the company of great and mighty angels, 
pass into the light and amazement of eternity, know the great 
secret, gaze upon splendours which flesh and blood eould not 
sustain, and which no words lawful for man to utter could 
describe ! Brethren in Christ, there is but a step between you 
and death ; between you and heaven there is but a veil. 

REV. C. STANFORD. 

2 B 



370 



GONE BEFORE. 



HOLY, QUIET THOUGHTS BRING US NEARER 
HEAVEN. 

If there be a heaven so fair 

O'er us ever shining, 
We shall never enter there 

By looking up and pining. 
In one holy, quiet thought. 
Heaven to us is nearer brought 
Than in all the radiance bright 
Of a thousand worlds of light. 

REV. J. GOSTICK. 



THE PLACE OF COMPLETED FELICITY. 

Soar aloft, O my soul, to that place of completed felicity. 
Rejoice in thy celestial vocation, comfort thyself with thy 
eternal inheritance, when the earth burdens and afflicts thee 
with its cares, and when thy temporal futurity appears dark and 
dubious. Cheer thyself, under every separation that occasions 
thee sorrow and dejection, with the thought that thou wilt one 
day find again in heaven all those of whom death hath deprived 
thee here ; and wilt there enter into the most intimate con- 
nection with Christ himself." Accustom thyself to keep the 
blessedness of heaven constantly in view, so will the world 
vanish from thy sight, and nothing will then seem so desirable 
or important to thee as those better regions to which thou art 
destined. Frequently compare the present short and wearisome 
state with that pleasing and everlasting condition in heaven, so 
wilt thou never fail in comfort, in hope, and in joy. In hope 
thou wilt be blessed. 

C. C. STURM. 



Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in God, believe 
also in JNIe. In My Father's house are many mansions : if it 
were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place 
for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come 
again, and receive you unto IMyself j that where I am, there ye 
may be also. — ^John xiv. I, 3. 



HEAVEN. 



S71 



YOUR HOME IS ABOVE. 

Do not look down, Christian. Your home is above, your 
Father is above, your Sa\iour is above, the dearest friends you 
have are above, the companions you love, the righteous nation 
to which you belong, are all above. Look not dovm, then. 
Christian ; there is deliverance at hand for you. It is on its 
way. " Though it tarr}-, wait for it, because it vrill surely come, 
it wiU not tarry. '"^ '"'Lift up your head, for your redemption 
draweth nigh." 

REV. WM. WELDOX CHAMPNEYS, M.A. 



THE PERFECT PURITY OF HEAVEX. 

The rest into which those who die in the Lord enter is 
marked with the entire surcease of all our earthly causes of 
weariness, pamfulness, and discouragement. The mind shall 
never be darkened with a suspicion of the hopelessness of its holy 
labour, for its immediate relation to the purposes, and its 
necessary part in the work of the Lord, shall be distinctly seen. 
It is a rest from all the labour and conflict which accompany the 
making sure our election, — from aU the fear and trembling with 
which we are now called to work out our salvation. The world, 
with its fascinations and temptations, shaU no longer dispute the 
claims of God to all our heart ; the flesh shall no longer hang 
as a hindrance and a drag upon oiu: devotion — its feebleness 
shall no longer lay a check upon the divine enthusiasm of the 
soul ; nor shall Satan any longer stand at our right hand, to 
distract our mind or to withstand our efforts. In the perfect 
purity of heaven, in the entire absence of every hindering element, 
m the instant obedience of the soul to the inward promptings of 
the divine hfe, in its spontaneous acquiescence in all goodness, 
and in its incessant and faultless service, it will enjoy that pro- 
found composure and tranq_uillity which is described as an 
element of the blessedness immediately after death. 

REV. THOMAS HILL. 



372 



GONE BEFORE. 



HEAVEN AROUND US. 

Although we are accustomed to think of heaven as distant, 
of this we have no proof. Heaven is the union, the society of 
spiritual, higher beings. ]\Iay not these fill the universe? 
Milton has said, — 

IMillions of spiritual beings walk the earth ? 
Both when we wake and when we sleep." 

A new sense, a new eye, might show the spiritual world com- 
passing us on every side. ^Yhilst we know not to what place 
our friends go, we know what is infinitely more interest- 
ing, to what bemgs they go. We know not where heaven 
is, but we know whom it contains ; and this knowledge 
opens to us an infinite field for contemplation and delight. 
They who are borne into heaven go not only to Jesus, and an 
innumerable company of pure beings ; they go to God. 
These new relations of the ascended spirit to the universal 
Father, how near ! how tender ! how strong ! how exalting ! 
and yet it is the chief element of the felicity of heaven. 

WxM. ELLERY CHANNING. 



THE TEARLESS LIFE IS THERE. 

Brief life is here our portion, 

Brief sorrow, short-lived care ; 
The life that knows no ending, 

The tearless life is there. 
Oh happy retribution ! 

Short toil, eternal rest ; 
For mortals and for sinners 

A mansion with the blest. 

BERNARD OF CLUNY. 



Since the beginning of the world men have not heard, nor 
perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O God, beside 
Thee, what He hath prepared for him that waiteth for Him. — 
Isa. Ixiv. 4. 



HEAVEN. 



373 



PERFECT FREEDOM FROM SIX. 

Who lias not sought to unravel the mystery of heaven ? VTho 
has not thought that rest, eternal rest, must be the blessedness of 
that blest abode? And yet what is meant by rest? If it be freedom 
from aU that troubles, all that unduly excites, all that raises or 
depresses, then may it be ; but if it be imagined as a state of 
perfect quiescence, that cannot be. ' ' My Father worketh hitherto, 
and I work," were the words of Him who is gone into heaven ; 
and He, in His glorified humanity, ever liveth to make inter- 
cession for us ; He sitteth on the right hand of God, clothed in 
human flesh ; His rest is work with, and for, His Father in 
heaven. 

And shall not we find rest in this, if indeed it be possible for 
man to conceive what eye hath not seen nor ear heard ? Wq 
know how Jesus delighted to speak of doing the work His 
Father had given Him to do, and since in human flesh di^dne 
He ever hveth, in that same flesh which knew in Him no sin, 
where^^dth we shall then be clothed, it must be that the joys, the 
very rest of heaven ^vill be to us the freedom from sin, the 
perfect oneness of the blessed above — God and the Lamb, the 
saints and angels, ^.^dth all the redeemed, ever working an 
untiring round of love and joy and praise. 

The life of our dear Lord on earth, apart from His sufl"ering 
humanity, can teach us much of the joy of heaven; vdih eyes 
upraised, His soul at one ^^dth God, He says, "Father, glorify 
Thy Son, that Thy Son may also glorify Thee, as Thou hast given 
Him power over all flesh, that He should give eternal life to as 
many as Thou hast given Him." O glorious thought — "that 
we may glorify God. " It is for this we have commenced eternity 
in time, imperfectly here, but there in the atmosphere of peace, 
of love, li\dng for God, breathing the purity, the all-pervading 
purity of that sweet world, joying in all joy — singing where all 
is praise — praying where all is prayer, and glorifying with His 
o^vn glory, the glory from the only begotten of the Father, even 
the grace and truth of Jesus Christ. Well may we pray for the 
" peace of God which passeth all understanding, the love of God, 
and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost." 

REV. J. H. MORGAN, D.D. 



374 



GONE BEFORE. 



I 



THE INHERITANCE FADETH NOT. 
The inheritance fadeth not away. Its spring is everlasting ; 
its flowers are unwithering ; its verdure is ever luxuriant and 
bright. Beautiful gardens of paradise ! no wintry blast sweeps 
with desolating fury through your beauteous trees, or over your 
fragrant flowers ; no scorching sun burns up the shrivelled root ; 
no pelting storm assails the sea of life. Amidst your amaranthine 
bowers there walks the Second Adam, awaiting the arrival of the 
second Eve, who is yet in the wilderness adorning herself vdth. 
bridal purity and grandeur ; and in due time she will be ready to 
meet her Lord, and walk with Him through the unblighted groves 
of paradise regained. 

CAROLINE FRY. 



FOR EVER WITH THE LORD. 

*^F0R ever with the Lord." Comfortable words indeed ! for 
they open all the future, and show it to be a future of untroubled, 
unending life. No death there ! men die but once. No sin 
■there ! the One Offering put it for ever away. No sorrow for 
lost friends ! they are rejoined in Christ. No fear of change in 
the presence of the unchanging One. Above all, no possibility 
of wandering and falling again into those depths from which we 
are ascending now. 

REV. ALEX. RALEIGH, D.D. 



TO BE WITH CHRIST IS HEAVEN. 

Is it a dream, to be dispelled at last, 
That, when the toils of human life are past, 
And all the arrows of the foe are spent, 
A glorious world receives the raptured saint ? 
O dream delicious ! O illusion grand. 
That pictures visions of the flowery land. 
That wafts the fragrance of its fields of bhss 
Across the deserts of a world like this ! 
Ecstatic dream, that gives to mortal eyes 
A passing glimpse of its refulgent skies ! 



HEAVEN. 



3 



Transporting dream, that lifts the soul above 

To wondrous regions of eternal love ! 

O dream divine, thou art the voice of God ! 

By thee allured, I seek His grand abode. 

But where, O dream — thou hast not told me where — 

Lies this bright land of rest from sin and care? 

Where is the sphere ceJestial, on whose shores 

No thunder peals, no surging tempest roars ? 

Where the resplendent firmament, that hears 

No sigh of woe, no sound of falling tears ? 

Where may the pilgrim's drooping eye behold 

The crystal river with its sands of gold ? 

The living waters, on whose banks of green 

The tree of life with mellow fruit is seen ? 

The gates of pearl, the throne of dazzling light, 

And the immortal priesthood clothed in white ? 

Where the abode of angels, and the place 

Where ransomed men behold their Saviour's face? 

Where in the vast immensity, untrod 

By mortal thought, resides the incarnate God ? 

To questions such as these the answer given 

Is clearly this, — to be with Christ in heaven. 

REV. W. LEASK, D.D. 

ALL BEAUTIFUL AND BRIGHT. 

That strange *'new song" 

Amid a white-robed throng 
Is gushing from her harp in living tone ; 

Her seraph voice, 

Tuned only to rejoice. 
Floats upward to the emerald-arched throne. 

No passing cloud 

Her loveliness may shroud, 
The beauty of her youth may never fade ; 

No line of care 

Her sealed brow may wear, 
The joy-gleam of her eye no dimness e'er may shade. 



GONE BEFORE. 



No stain is there 

Upon the robes they wear, 
Within the gates of pearl which she hath passed ; 

Like woven Hght, 

All beautiful and bright, 
Eternity upon those robes no shade may cast. 

No sin-born thought 

May in that home be wrought, 
To trouble the clear fountain of her heart ; 

No tear, no sigh, 

No pain, no death be nigh, 
Where she hath entered in, no more to " know in part." 

Her faith is sight. 

Her hope is full delight. 
The shadowy veil of time is rent in twain ; 

Her untold bliss — 

What thought can follow this ! 
To her to live was Christ, — to die indeed is gain. 

FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL. 

THERE ALL IS LIVING LOVE. 
There shall be no more fading of the flowers, 

No autumn winds shall lay the beauty low : 
There shall be no more death of joy- winged hours, 

No burial of hope, as here below. 

Love shall not die, where all is living love ; 

There the heart grows not strange, or weak or cold 
For grief's wild blast shall blow no more above ; 

There, friends we cling to, fade not — wax not old. 

There is not heard the stealthy step of him 

Who, placing icy hand on heart and brain. 
Makes the whole landscape of our life-ray dim, 

And wings the spirit from its home of pain. 
There shall be no more death ! Not then, as now, 

Will be the nameless shudder — the regret 
Of bearing sin's deep stain upon the brow — 

Death's warrant for the deed he stays as yet ! 



HEAVEN. 



377 



A glorious life, untinged by thought of death ! 

Then shall we live^ when once that bourne is ours, 
Where fell disease ne'er stops the labouring breath — 

Life, happy life — amid the unfading flowxrs ! 

DR. PARKER. 



THERE BLISS IS PERFECT. 
Here bliss is short, imperfect, insecure ; 
But total, absolute, and perfect there. 
Here time's a moment, short our happiest state, 
There, infinite duration is our date. 
Here, Satan tempts and troubles e'pn the best ; 
There, Satan's power extends not to the blest. 
In a weak, simple body here I dwell ; 
But there I drop this frail and sickly shell. 
Here, my best thoughts are stained with guilt and fear ; 
But love and pardon shall be perfect there 
Here my best duties are defiled with sin ; 
There all is ease without and peace within, 
Here feeble faith supplies my only light ; 
There, faith and hope are swallowed up in sight. 
Here, love of self my fairest works destroys ; 
There love of God shall perfect all my joys. 
Here, things as in a glass are darkly shown ; 
There, I shall know as clearly as I'm known. 
Frail are the fairest flowers which bloom below ; 
There, freshest plants on roots immortal grow. 
Here wants and cares perplex my anxious mind ; 
But spirits there a calm fruition find. 
Here, disappointments my best schemes destroy ; 
There, those that sowed in tears shall reap in joy. 
Here, vanity is stamp'd on all below ; 
Perfection there on ev'ry good shall grow. 
Here, if some sudden joy delight inspire, 
The dread to lose it damps the rising fire ; 
But there, whatever good the soul employ; 
The thought that 'tis eternal crowns the joy. 

HANNAH MORE. 



GONE BEFORE. 



SAFE IX THE CITY OF THE EVER HOLY. 

O SAFE at home, where the dark tempter roams not, 
How I have envied thy far happier lot ! 

Already resting where the evil comes not, 
The tear, the toil, the woe, the sin forgot. 

O safe in fort, where the rough billow breaks not, 
Where the yrild sea-moan saddens thee no more ; 

^'\llere the remorseless stroke of tempest shakes not : 
\Vhen, when shall I too gain that tranquil shore ; 

O bright, amid the brightness all eternal, 
When shall I breathe \\dth thee the purer air ? 

Air of a land whose clime is ever vernal, 
A land without a serpent or a snare. 

Away, above the scenes of guilt and folly. 
Beyond this desert's heat and dreariness, 

Safe in the city of the ever holy. 
Let me make haste to join thy earlier bliss. 

Another battle fought, and oh ! not lost, 
Tells of the ending of this fight and thrall ; 

Another ridge of time's lone moorland crossed 
Gives nearer prospect of the jasper wall. 

Just gone within the veil, where I shall follow, 

Not far before me, hardly out of sight, 
I, down beneath thee in this cloudy hollow. 

And thou far up on yonder sunny height. 

Gone to begin a new and happier story. 

Thy bitterer tale of earth now told and done ; 

These outer shadows for that inner glory 
Exchanged for ever — O thrice blessed one ! 

O freed from fetters of this lonesome prison. 
How I shall greet thee in that day of days, 

When He who died, yea, rather, who is risen, 

Shall these frail frames from dust and darkness raise I 



REV, HORATIUS BOXAR. 



HEAVEN. 



379 



THE IXBURSTIXG OF A CLOUDLESS DAY OX ALL 
THE RIGHTEOUS DEAD. 
Xo mysteries remain but such as comfort us in the promise of 
a glorious emplo}mient. The light of the moon is as the light of 
the sun, and the light of the sun sevenfold ; and every object of 
knowledge, irradiated by the brightness of God, shines with a 
new celestial clearness and an inconceivable beauty. The 
resurrection morning is a true sunrising, the inbursting of a 
cloudless day on all the righteous dead. They wake, transfigured 
at their Master's call, with the fashion of their countenance 
altered and shining like His own : — 

Creature all grandeur, son of truth and light, 
Up from the dust, the last great day is bright — 
Bright on the holy mountain round the throne. 
Bright where in borrowed light the far stars shone ! 
Regions on regions far away they shine, 
'Tis light ineffable, 'tis light divine ! 
Immortal light and life for evermore ! " 
There was a cloud, and there was a time when man saw not 
the brightness that shined upon it from above. That cloud is 
lifted, and God is clear in His own essential beauty and glory for 
ever. 

REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D. 

FEARLESS REST. 
O PRINCELY lot ! O bhssful art ! 

E'en while by sense of change opprest, 
Thus to forecast in heart 

Heaven's age of fearless rest. 
And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed 

Around our incompleteness ; 
Round our restlessness, His rest. 

MRS. E. B. BROWNING. 

**The Lord God giveth them light." They dwfell thus in 
the eternal daylight of love and reason. 

REV. HORACE BUSHNELL, D.D. 



GONE BEFORE. 



THE RAPTURE OF REST, 
Out of the shadows of sadness, 
Into the sunshine of gladness, 

Into the hght of the blest • 
Out of a land very dreary, 
Out of the world of the weary, 

Into the rapture of rest. 

Out of to-day's sin and sorrow. 
Into a blissful to-morrow, 

Into a day without gloom ; 
Out of a land filled with sighing. 
Land of the dead and the dying. 

Into a land without tomb. 

Out of a life of commotion, 
Tempest, swept oft as the ocean. 

Dark with the \^Tecks drifting o^er, 
Into a land calm and quiet, 
Never a storm cometh nigh it. 

Never a wreck on its shore. 

Out of a land in whose bowers 
Perish and fade all the flowers 

Out of the land of decay 
Into the Eden where fairest 
Of flow'rets, and sweetest and rarest. 

Never shall wdther away. 

Out of the world of the wailing, 
Thronged with the anguish'd, and ailing. 

Out of the world of the sad, 
Into the world that rejoices, 
World of bright visions and voices 

Into the world of the glad. 

Out of a life ever lornful, 
Out of a land very mournful. 

Where in bleak exile we roam, 
Into a joyland above us. 
Where there's a Father to love us; 

Into our home, sweet home ! " 

REV. RICHAKD RYAN. 



HEAVEN. 



GAIXIXG TEIE CROWX. 
One sweetly solemn thought 

Comes to me o'er and o"er, 
I am nearer home to-day 

Than I ever have been before ; 
Xearer my Father's house, 

Where the many mansions be, 
Xearer the great white throne, 

Xearer the cr}-stal sea. 
Nearer the bound of life; 

\Vhere we lay our burdens down ; 
Xearer leaving the cross ; 

X'earer gaining the cro^vn. 

But l}Tiig darkly between, 

Winding do^vn through the night, 
Is the deep and unknown stream, 

To be crossed ere we reach the light. 
Jesus, perfect my trust, 

Strengthen the hand of* my faith ; 
Let me feel Thee near when I stand 

On the edge of the shore of death. 

Be near me when my feet 

Are slipping over the brink ; 
For it may be I'm nearer home — 

Nearer than now I tiiink. 

PHCEBE CAREY. 

FULNESS OF JOY. 
Ix all the trials and difiicalties which surround man in this 
world, the hope of future happiness bears him up, and enables 
him to endure them with patience. If it were not for this hope, 
the children of God would be most miserable. They would have 
no comfort in son'ow, no support in trials, and no consolation in 
death. They would live in gloom, and die in despair. But the 
Christian has a hope weU fomided, sure and steadfast, which 
enables him to rejoice in affliction, to triumph in persecution, and 
to smile at death. He has heaven promised to him hereafter — 



382 



GONE BEFORE. 



where there is perfect knowledge, perfect holiness, perfect 
freedom from sin and suffering, perfect enjoyment in the realms 
of bliss. There are laurels which will never fade ; robes of 
spotless purity which will never tarnish ; palms which will 
never wither ; diadems which are immortal ; treasures that can 
never be corrupted ; pleasures which fill the soul with ecstasy 
for ever. There is fulness of joy at God's right hand, and 
heaven is an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that 
fadeth not away. In My Father's house are many mansions ; 
I go to prepare a place for you." In these promises they 
have an earnest of heaven here. Earthly fabrics are smitten 
by the hand of time, and soon fall and hasten to decay ; thorns 
spring up in the palaces, and brambles in the fortress ; the 
mouldering arch and broken walls tell us most eloquently that 
there is nothing stable beneath the sky. But it will not be so 
with our Father's house — this temple in the skies. Its foundations 
are laid deep in eternity, and time only adds to its glory. It has 
no besieger to fear, and nothing to shake its sure repose, it was 
built for eternity by the Divine Architect — God. 

If this is true (and who can doubt it?) with what patience and 
resignation should we bear the ills of lifel well might the 
apostle say *'Our light affliction," light when compared with 
our deserts, which is but for a moment" compared with 
eternity, worketh for us an eternal weight of glory. " The cross 
is light, but the crown is weighty. The affliction is small, but the 
comfort is great — the burden of grief is to be borne but for a 
moment, but the weight of happiness, joy, and glory is to last for 
ever. Fear not little flock ; for it is your Father's good pleasure 
to give you the kingdom." 

REV. DR. JARBO. 

A REST FROM EVERY SORROW. 
This divine rest awaiting us hereafter will be a rest from every 
sorrow — no more irksome toil of body or of mind, no more 
poverty or privation, no more spiritual conflict, no more imperfect 
service, no more dim guesses after truth, no more disappointment, 
no more death. It will be a rest in every delight ; for ever 
there the crystal river of joy, and the mansions of unclouded 
peace, the retrospect of work accomplished, the harvest of 



HEAVEN. 



383 



precious seed once sown in tears, the knowing as we are known, 
the -loving as we are loved, the perfect service which is perfect 
freedom, the society of the blessed, the worship of heaven, and 
uninterrupted communion with God . 

REV. E. H. BICKERSTETH. 



BEYOND THE CROSS TO THE CROWN. 

Beyond this state of probation to that of fruition ; beyond 
striving, to attainment ; beyond discipline to perfection ; beyond 
warfare, to victory ; beyond labour to rest ; beyond constant 
slips and shortcomings, and half-heartedness at best, to steadfast 
holiness ; beyond the cross to the crown. The first wonder has 
passed, and the amazed and almost dizzied soul has straightened 
and uncrumpled its wings and collected its powers, and can calmly 
begin to understand its change, and to muse on its future, and to 
grasp the idea of the possession upon which it has come ; to 
anticipate the endless succession of amaranthine flowers, ever 
increasing in glory throughout eternity, and the songs that shall 
ever throng more and more abundant and ecstatic, and shall 
never pass away ! And so may we think of our dead that fall 
asleep in Jesus ; contemplating that ravishing prospect which 
is theirs and may be ours. 

From The Harvest of a Quiet Eye^ 

THE LAMB'S ETERNAL GLORY MAKES THE 
HAPPY CITY BRIGHT. 

Around them, bright with endless spring, perpetual roses bloom, 
AYarm balsams gratefully exude luxurious perfume ; 
And crocuses and lilies white shine dazzling in the sun ; 
Green meadows yield their harvest green, and streams with 
honey run : 

Unbroken droop the laden boughs with heavy fruitage bent — 
Of incense and of odours strange the air is redolent ; 
And neither sun, nor moon, nor stars, dispense their changeful 
light, 

But the Lamb's eternal glory, makes the happy city bright. 

ST. AUGUSTINE. 



384 



GONE BEFORE. 



EACH FEELS THE OTHER'S JOYS. 
The saints on earth, when sweetly they converse, 
And the dear favours of kind Heaven rehearse, 
Each feels the other's joys ; both doubly share 
The blessings which devoutly they compare. 
If saints such mutual joy feel here below 
When they each other's heavenly foretastes know, 
What joys transport them at each other's sight 
When they shall meet in empyreal height ! 
Friends, e'en in heaven, one happiness would miss. 
Should they not know each other when in bliss. 

BISHOP KEN. 

THE BLESSED AND HARMONIOUS SOCIETY OF 
HEAVEN. 

In contemplating the blessed and harmonious society of 
heaven, how intensely interesting is the prospect that in it we 
shall recognise those whom we have loved, and been loved by |j 
on earth ! For of all the afflictions to which we are subject 
in this vale of tears there is none so painful as the death of 
pur Christian friends. And though time may in some degree 
alleviate the anguish of our hearts, yet there are seasons when 
memory recalls with vividness the loved ones who are gone, and 
causes our wound to bleed afresh. 

'^Busy memory in barbarous succession musters up 
The past endearments of our softer hours." 
How consoling then is the knowledge that the broken bonds of 
affection shall be re-united in a world where sorrow is unknown ! 
To this the apostle refers, as a reason why we should bow with 
submission to the stroke of temporary separation, * ' For if we 
believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which 
sleep in Jesus mil God bring with Him. For the Lord himself 
shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the 
archangel, and with the trump of God ; and the dead in Christ 1 
shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be 
caught up together with them, in the clouds, to meet the Lord in 
the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefor \ 
comfort one another with these words." — i Thess. iv. 4 — iS. | 

REV. PETER GRANT. 



HEAVEN. 



385 



In Thy presence is fulness of joy ; at Thy right hand there are 
pleasures for evermore. — Psa. xvi. ii. 

As for me, I will behold Thy face in righteousness ; I shall 
be satisfied, when I awake, with Thy likeness. — Psa. xvii. 15. 

Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon 
us, that we should be called the sons of God. 

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear 
what we shall be : but we know that, when He shall appear, 
we shall be like Him ; for we shall see Him as He is. — 
I John iii. I, 2. 

This is the promise that He hath promised us, even eternal 
life. 

And now, little children, abide in Him ; that when He shall 
appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before Him 
at His coming.— -I John ii. 25, 28. 

They rest not day and night, saying. Holy, holy, holy. Lord 
God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come. They fall down 
before Him that sat on the throne, and worship Him that liveth 
for ever and ever, and cast their cro\^^ls before the throne, 
saying, Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory, and 
honour, and power. — Rev. iv. 8, 10, 1 1. 

They sang a new song, saying. Thou art worthy, for Thou 
wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by Thy blood out of 
every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation ; and hast 
made us unto our God kings and priests ; and we shall reign 
on the earth. And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many 
angels round about the throne, and the beasts, and the elders : 
and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, 
and thousands of thousands ; saying with a loud voice, Worthy 
is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, 
and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. 
And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and 
under the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in 
hem, heard I saying. Blessing, and honour, and glory, and 
wer, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the 
tmb for ever and ever. Amen. — Rev. v. 9 — 14. 

2 C 



386 



GONE BEFORE. 



Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to 
present you faultless before the presence of His glory with ex- 
ceeding joy. To the only wise God our Saviour be glory, and 
majesty, dominion, and power, both now and ever. iVmen.— 
Jude 24, 25. 

And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as 
cr}^stal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb, 
In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, 
was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and 
yielded her fruit every month ; and the leaves of the tree were 
for the healing of the nations. And there shall be no more 
curse : but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it ; 
and His servants shall serve Him ; and they shall see His face, 
and His name shall be in their foreheads. And there shall be 
no night there ; and they need no candle, neither light of the 
sun ; for the Lord God giveth them light : and they shall reign 
for ever and ever. — Rev. xxii. i — 6. 



L'ENVOL 

Write, O Christ, these meditations in our hearts, imprint 
them so fast in our memories that we may all the days of our 
lives have frequent forethoughts of our appointed change, chiefly 
in that last and solemn day of our death, when the prince of this 
world will be busy, and we shall be weak. Let Thy Comforter 
then bring them to mind, that by faith we may overcome ; and, 
having the ark of Thy covenant in eye, cheerfully pass through 
the waters of Jordan, and so take possession of that land which 
flows with all variety of delights without either end or satiety. 
•*Even so, come, Lord Jesus." 

REV. SAMUEL WARD. 



jlylST OF y*£UTHOI\S (^UOTED. 



' Solidity indeed beco7nes the pen 

Of him that writeth things divine to men." 

Bun VAN. 



A 

Adams, Thomas, 228. 
AiRD, Thomas, 172. 
A-Kempis, Tho:.ias, 294, 365. 
Aldrich, James, 143. 
Alford, Dean, 128, 281. 
Allixgham, William, 156. 
Allox, Rev. Hexry, 225, 246, 255; 
318. 

AxGLEV, Rev. J. G., M.A., 4. 
Axxe, Couxtess of Aruxdel, 

163. 

Ascha:\i, Roger, 292. 
Augustixe, St., 383. 
Author of " The Harvest of a 

Quiet Eye," 343, 383. 
Aytoux, Professor, 171. 



B 

Bacon, Lord, 199, 222. 
Bailey, P. J., 121, 135, 187. 
Baixes, Mrs. S., 80. 
Balferx, Rev. — 289. 
Barbauld, Mrs., 161, 177. 
Barr, Matthias, 103. 
Barrow, Isaac, 293. 
Basque, From the, 259. 
Batchelor, Rev. Hexry, 112. 
Bates, Dr. W., 336. 
Baxter, Richard, 24, 362. 



Bayley,Rev. Emilius, D.D.,21,40. 
Beaumoxt axd Fletcher, 199, 
238. 

Beaumont, Sir Johx. 98. 
Beecher, Rev. H. W., 269, 282, 
291. 

Bexxett, W. C, 57, 75. 
Berxard, of Cluxy, 372. 
Berridge, Bishop, 324. 
Beveridge, Bishop, 345. 
Bickersteth, Rev, E. H., 78,383, 
Bigg, J. Staxyan, 56, 245, 273, 
288. 

Bixxey, Rev. T., 10, 38, 267, 298, 

328. 

Bishop, Samuel, 116. 
Blackwood, Hox. 2\Irs., 168. 
Blair, Hugh, 222. 
Blair, Robert, 197. 
Blomfield, Dr. C. J., Right Rev. 

Lord Bishop of Loxdox, 294, 334. 
Bluxt, H., 22 V 
Bolixgbroke, Lord, 297. 
BoxAR, Rev. Horatius, i, 121, 

237, 258, 240, 251, 276, 330, 357, 

378. ■ 

Boavles, Carolixe (Mrs. Southey), 
144. 

Bowles, Rev. Wm. Lisle, 325. 
Boyle, Hox'. Robert, 194. 
Bradley, Rev. C, 288. 
Bridge, Rev. Stephen, 26, 30, 
237- 

Brock, Rev. W. J., 320. 



388 



LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED. 



Brooks, James, 43. 
Broome, Rev. Arthur, 216. 
Brown, H., 93. 

Brown, Rev. J. Mortlock, B.A. 

325> SSI- 
Brown, John, 21. 
Browning, Mrs. E.B.,ioo, 137, 141, 

144, 176, 264, 282, 314, 360, 3790 
Bryant, Wm. Cullen, 330. 
Buchanan, Robert, 286, 306, 312. 
BucKE, Rev. W. B., M.A., 212. 

BUNYAN, 12. 

BuRDER, Rev. H. F., D.D., 350. 

Burke, Edmund, 236. 
Burns, Robert, 72, 75, 126. 
Burton, Robert, 31. 
Bushnell, Rev. Horace, D.D.,5, 

8, 26, 379. 
Butler, Archer, 226, 239, 256. 
Byron, Lord, 50, 83, 121, 181, 248 

258, 266. 



C 

Cadman, Rev. Wm., M.A., 31,271, 
S46. 

Cairn, The, 152. 
Campbell, Major Calder, 120. 
Carey, Phcebe, 143, 381. 
Carlyle, Thomas, 236. 
Carrion, De Leon, 210. 
Chadwick, Sheldon, 88. 
Chalmers, Dr., 117. 
Chamberlain, Mrs. C. A., 137. 
Champneys, Rev. Wm. Weldon, 

M.A., 371. 
Channing, Wm. Ellery, 153, 372, 
Charles, Mrs., 94. 
Charlesworth, Rev. E. G., 346. 
Charnock, Stephen, 38. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, 224. 

Cheke, Sir John, Translation 
BY, 295. 

Child, Mrs. L. M., 238. 

Coleridge, Hartley, 95. 

Coleridge, S. T,, 59, 69, 73. 

Collins, Ann. 1653. 34. 

Collyer, Rev. Bengo, 175. 

CoLTON, Rev. G. H., 201. 

Conder, Rev. Geo. W,, 296. 

Cook, Eliza. 254, 350. 

Cooper, Thomas, 333. 

Cornwall, Barry, 74. 

CowPER, 30, 149, 236, 241, 259, 274, 
303, 326. 

Cranmer, Archbishop, 231. 

Gumming, Rev. John, D.D., 302. 

Cunningham, Allan, 62. 

CURRAN, 217. 



D 



Dale, Canon, 27, 131, 212, 318. 
Dana, M. S. B., 103, 117, 154. 
Davenant, Sir Wm., 249. 
Davies, Rev. Edwin, 202. 
Davy, Sir Humphrey, 288, 
De Foe, Daniel, 223. 
De Vere, Aubrey, 4. 
Dewey, Rev. Orville, D.D., 114, 

140, 179, 188, 218. 
Dickens, Charles, 140, 272. 
Doddridge, Dr., 52, 306. 
Donne, Dr. John, 187. 
Doyle, Sir F. H., 158. 
Dryden, 126, 316. 
D wight. Dr.. 269. 



E 

Eastman, Charles Gamage, 133. 
Eliot, George, 250. 
Elizabeth, Charlotte,5S, 66, 185. 
Elliott, Anne, 90. 
Emerson. Ralph Waldo, 251. 
Erskine, Dr. John, 44. 
Eyre, Rev. C. J. P., M.A., 267. 



F 

Faber, Rev. F. W. , 305. 

Feltham, Owen, 189. 
Fenelon, Archbishop, 346. 
Ferguson, Robert., D.D., 207 
Flavel, John, 80. 
Fleetwood, Bishop, 300. 
Fletcher, Dr., 349. 
Foster, Rev. Luke, 243. 
Fry, Caroline, 374. 
Fuller, Thomas, 201. 



G 

Garth, Sir Samuel, 185. 
Gasparin, Madame De, 300. 
Gelbert, C. F. 360. 
Gerhardt, Paul. 1650. 87, 344, 

365- 
Gibbons, 123. 

GiFFORD, Hon. Mrs., 134. 
Giles, Henry, 206. 
Giles, Sydney, 70. 
GiLFiLLAN, Rev. George, 114. 
Goethe, 181, 186. 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 4Q, 200, 250. 
Gossner, 351. 



LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED. 



389 



GosTicK, Rev. J., 370. 

Grant, Rev. Peter, 20, 28, 42, 

229, 273, 356, 384 
Grant, Rev. Robert, 251. 
Grant, Sir Robert, 272, 341. 
Gray, Thomas, 242, 267. 
Greenwell, Dora, 280. 
Grey, Lady Jane, 360. 
Grindon, Leo H., 187. 
GuRNALL, William, 12, 289. 
Guthrie, Rev. Thomas, D.D., 

217, 299. 
Guzerutte, 266. 



H 

Hall, Bishop, 41, 190, 347. 
Halleck, 118. 

Halsey, Rev. Joseph, 5, 36. 
H a:\iilton. Rev. J., 161. 
Hare, Augustus, 236. 
Hare, Julius Charles, 294. 
Harris, Thomas L., 57. 
Hastings, Lady Flora, 306. 
Havard, 190. 

Havergal, Frances Ridley, 262, 
266, 283, 302, 311, 315, 324, 327, 
339. 353. 355, 361, 376. 

Haweis, Thomas, 223. 

Hawthorne,Nathaniel, 120, 155. 

Hawtrey, Mrs., 260. 

Haynes, S. , 126. 

Heber, Bishop, 180, 196, 214, 
263- 

Hedderwick, John, 107. 
Helps, Sir Arthur, 252. 
He:^ians, Mrs., 49, 109, 126, 130, 

T33> 179. 193. 231. 
Henry, Matthew, 39. 
Herbert, George, 19. 
Hervey, Rev. James, 49. 
Hervey, T. K., 364. 
Hill, Aaron, 258. 
Hill, Rev. Pascoe Grenfell, 

234. 

Hill, Rev. Thomas, 116, 184, 192, 

198, 307. 371- 
HiNTON, William E., 55. 
Holland, Josiah Gilbert, ii. 
Holmes, Mrs. Torre, 208, 
Holmes, O. W., 186. 
Homilist, The, 191. 
Hooker, Bishop, 22,253. 
Hopkins, Bishop, 253. 
HoRNE, Bishop, 37. 
HoRwooD, Rev. W. D. , 304, 365. 
Howard, John, 339. 
HowiTT, Mary, 79 116. 
HuG^ Victor, 73. 



Humboldt, Baron, 339. 
Hunt, Leigh, 48, 80, 209. 
Hunter, Mrs. Anne, 248. 
Huntingdon, Countess of, 41. 
Hurdis, Rev. James, D.D., 
204. 



Ingelow, Jean, 286. 
Irving, Edward, 227. 
Irving, Washington, 220, 232. 



Jackson, Thos. D.D., 13. 
Jameson, Rev. John, 167. 
Jarbo, Rev. Dr., 382. 
Jesse, Edward, 319. 
Jewell, Mrs. J. H., 61. 
Jewsbury, IMiss. 32. 
Jones, Rev. Richard, ]M. A. ,15,226. 
Jones, Rev. Thomas, 195. 
Johnson, Dr., 190, 199, 339. 
Judson, Mrs. Emily, to^-]-]. 



K 

Keats, 247. 

Keble, Rev. John, 12, 145, 313, 
356. 

Kelly, Rev. John, 14. 
Ken, Bishop, 384. 
Kendrick, Rev, J., 246. 
King, Dr., 163. 
Kingsley, Charles, 326, 



Landor, W. S., 247. 

Latimer, Bishop. 295. 

Leask, Rev. W., D.D., 375. 

Lee, Holme, 146,174, 222, 237, 267. 

Lee, N. 126. 

Legg, W., 203. 

Leighton, Archbishop, 19, 40, 43. 

Leslie, Mary, 173. 

LiGHTFOOT, Dr., 202. 

LiLLo, George, 199. 

Lloyd, Elizabeth, 329. 

Locke, John, 235. 

Longfellow, 82, 97, 119, 153, 157, 

182, 189, 191, 249, 330. 
Lowell, J. R. 64, 132, 210. 268. 
Luther, Martin, 287. 



390 



LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED. 



Lyte, Rev. H. F.^ 262, 329, 354. 
Lytton, Lord, 244, 309. 



M 

McCheyne, Rev. R. M., 235. 
Macduff, Rev. J. R., D.D., 7, 12, 
114, 257, 264, 265, 272, 315, 329. 
Mack AY, Margaret, 216. 
Mackenzie, Dr. ,341. 
McLachlan, Alexander, 139. 
Magee, Rev. W. C, B.D., 278. 
Malan, Dr. , 310. 
Mallet, David, 18. 
Mant, Bishop, 197, 251. 
INIarston, Rev. C., M.A., 333. 
Martin, Rev. Sa.muel. 303. 
ISIassey, Gerald. 55, 138, 191, 323. 
Mason, Rev. John, 333, 335. 
Mathew, Rev. — ., 305. 
Meinhold, 71. 
Melancthon, 289. 
Melville, Rev. Henry, 230. 
Merry, Rev. C. IM. , 8, 18, 277. 
ISIiller, Canon, D.D., 333. 
JMiller, Mrs. Hugh, 84. 
IMiLMAN, Dean; 212. 
jNIilton, 182; 189. 365. 
Moffat, Very Rev. H. B. , 214. 
MoiR, D. M., 86, 88, 102, 136. 
Montgomery, James, 31, 39. 
jNIontgomery, Rev. R. , 200. 
Moore, Rev. Daniel, M.A. , 367. 
Moore, Dugald, 119. 
jMoore, Thomas, 112, 
jMore, Hannah, 19, 377. 
More. Sir Thomas, 341. 
Morgan, Rev. J. H., D.D., 373. 
IvIoRRisoN, Rev. Dr. , 265. 
Moultrie, Rev. John, 53, 166. 
MouNTFORD, Lord. 80. 
MuLOCH, Dinah, 139, 158, 159, 

176, 203, 210, 351, 365. 
Murray, Rev. "John Walton, 

B.A., 16. 
Mursell, Rev. Arthur, 238. 



N 

Ne\vman, Dr., 342. 

Newnham, W., II. 

Newton. Rev. John, 347. 

NicoL, Robert, 155, 

Norris, Bishop, 348. 

Norton, Hon. ]Mrs. 37, 124, 157, 

186, 284, 310, 331, 350. 
NovALis, From the German of, 

26. 



O 

Ogden, Dr., 304. 

Owen, Rev. J. B., M.A., 234. 



P 

Paley, William, D.D., 294. 
Palmerston, Lord, 150. 
Parker, Dr., 248, 298, 377. 
Parnell, 214. 
Patrick, Simon, 190. 
Peabody, 52. 

Pearson, Rev. T. R. W., B.A., 225. 

Percival, James Gates, 128. 
Percy, Dr., 135. 
Phelps, Elizabeth S., 285. 
Pollok, Robert, 170, 194. 
Pomfret, John, 339. 
Pope, 215. 

Power, Rev. Philip Bennett, 
j\LA. , 49. 

Prince, J. C. , iii. 

Procter, Adelaide A., 142, 324. 

Procter, W. B. (Barry Corn- 
wall), 74. 

Pulsford, Rev, John, 240, 

Punshon, Rev. Morley, 22. 

Purvis, 226. 

PusEY, Dr., 292. 



Q 

Quarles, F., 12. 



R 

Raffles, Dr. , 6. 

Raleigh, Rev. Alex., D.D., 374. 
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 224. 
Reeve, Rev. John W.al, ]\LA., 33, 
275- 

Reynolds, Bishop, 10. 
Richter, Jean Paul, 193, 241. 
Robertson, Rev. F. W., of 

Brighton, 265. 
Robinson, Robert, 58. 
RowE, 192, 202, 258, 283. 
Ruckert, 204, 
Ruskin, John, 187. 
Rutherford, Samuel, 27,228, 324. 
Ryan, Rev. Richard, 380. 
Ryle, Rev. J. C, 6, 214, 233, 293, 

302. 



S 

Sala, George Augustus, 217. 



LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED. 



391 



Salis, 252. 

Sawyer, William^ 122, 301. 

Schiller, 349. 

SCHMOLK, 9, 351. 

ScowBY, Rev. Thomas, 245. 

Scriptures, The Holy, 5, ii, 13, 
18, 20, 24, 26, 30. 38, 44, 50, 93, 
III, 119, 128, 161, 168, 169, 170, 
180, 182, 189, 193, 196, 197, 202, 
210, 211, 214, 217, 218, 229, 231, 
233. 255, 256, 258, 259, 263, 267, 
270,286, 291, 295, 302, 309, 326, 
333. 336, 338, 349. 362, 364. 366. 
367. 368, 370, 372, 385, 3S6, 

Seneca, 217. 

Shakespeare, 18, 145, 190, 221, 

232, 352. 
Smelley, p. B., 79. 
Sheridan, R. B. , loi. 
Shirley, James, 41, 193. 
SiBBES, Richard, D.D., 321. 

SlEVERIGHT, Dr., 183. 

Sidney, Sir Philip, 340. 
SiGOURNEY, Mrs., 2, 51, 53, 62, 65, 
73, 87, 93, 104, III, 151, 195, 25S, 
^ 285, 350. 
Sillery, 138. 
S^MPS0N, Rev. S. H. , 23. 
Smith, Alexander, 118. 
Smith, Dirk, 63. 
Smith, Horace, 33. 
South, Dr. , 292, 
Scutherne, Thomas, 259. 
SouTHEY, t8, 30, 199, 285, 320, 352. 
SouTHEY, Mrs. , 69, 79, 205. 
Spenser, 200, 282. 
Spitta, 17. 

Spurgeon, Rev. C. H., 233, 342. 
Stanford, Rev. C, 369. 
Stanley, Dr. Very Rev. the 

Dean of Westminster, 338. 
Steele, Sir Richard, 154. 
Steele, Miss Anne, 112. 
Sterne, Laurence, 331. 
Stillingfleet, Bishop, 319. 
Stowe, Mrs. H. B., 125. 
Stowell, Rev. Hugh, yi.A.,2-j6. 
Sturm, C. C, 370. 
Sturm, Julius, 358. 
Swain, Charles, 10, 221. 
Swift, Dean, 183. 
Swift, Rev. B., LL.B.,230. 
Syrus, Ephr/em, 97. 



Tait, Dr. Archibald C, His 
Grace Archbishop of Can- 
TERBI'RY, 292. 



Taylor, Jane, 29, 72. 
Taylor, Jeremy, 232, 242, 245, 

254, 255, 283. 
Taylor, Rev. T. Rawson, 363. 
Teignmouth, Lady, 313. 
Temple, Sir William, 341. 
Tennyson, 155, 150, 221, 258, 290, 
Tersteegen, Gerhard, 361. 
Thom, J. H., 239. 
Thomas, Rev. David, D.D., 260. 
Thomson, 123, 184. 250. 
Thompson, Rev. E., D.D. , 213, 

216. 

Thorold, Rev. A. W., M.A., 42. 
Tillotson, Archbishop, 369. 
Trench, Archbishop, 3, 58, 125, 

174, 242, 249, 254, 255, 259, 270. 

284, 314, 316. 
TuppER, M. F. ,198,204. 
Tyler, Rev. W., 285. 
Tyndale, WxM., 224. 



U 

Upham, Thomas C, 25, 314. 
Usher, Archbishop, 41 



Vaughan, Rev. Dr., 211. 
Vaughan, Rev. Henry, 160, 317. 
Vasco, Author of, 322. 
Venning, John, 326. 
Von Dyk, H. S., 63. 



W 

Wallace, Rev. A. , 159. 
Walton, Izaak, 20. 
Ward, Rev. Samuel, 386. 
Wasse, William, LL.D., 206. 
Waterson, R. C., 207, 243. 
Watts, Alaric A. , 54. 
Watts, Dr., 195. 
Webster, Augusta, 89. 
Weld, H. H. , 333. 
Wesley, John, 352. 
White, Kieke, 327. 
Whittier, J. G., 122, 160,328. 339. 
W^it.berforce, Dr. Samuel, Right 
Rev. Lord Bishop of Win 

CHESTER, 279. 

Wilberforce, William, ^58 
Williams, Rev. Isaac, 35'4''. 



392 



VviLLiS, N. p. , Si. 109. 

Wilson, Professor, hi, 127, 339, 

WixsLOw, Rev. Octavius, D.D. , 

261, 368. 
Wolfe, Charles, 151. 
WroLXER, Thomas, 130, 161, 247 
Wordsworth, 82, 137, 291. 



/ 

LIST OF AUTHORS QUOTED. /^^ 

Y 



j Young, Edward, 145; 183, 19^, 
' 199, 200, 221 , 226. 
] Younge, 206. 



Zehn. 1615. 313. 




Nl 

NOK 

186, 

Noval. 

26. 



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